O-«^^_^L 


NEW   TABLES    OF 
STONE 


AND   OTHER  ESSAYS 


BY 

HENRY   M.   SIMMONS 


BOSTON 

JAMES    H.   WEST   COMPANY 


Copyright,    1904 
By   HENRY   M.    SIMMONS 


THE    FRIENDS    WHO    HAVE    CALLED    FOR 

AND    CAUSED 
THTS    PUBLICATION 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

NEW  TABLES  OF  STONE 3 

UNITY  THROUGH  DIVERSITY 25 

NEW  LEAVES  OF  SCRIPTURE 45 

"  THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE  " 67 

AN  OLD  PARABLE  EXTENDED 93 

THE  DIVINITY  OF  MAN 117 

THE  WATER  OF  LIFE 145 

THE  BOOK  OF  JONAH 155 

THE  KREATH  OF  LIFE 177 

THE  SIN  IN  A  CENSUS 203 

THE  RISE  AND  FALL  OF  SATAN 215 

THE  ENLARGING  THOUGHT  OF  GOD 237 

CHRISTIANITY  THEN  AND  SINCE 261 

VARIOUS   MEANINGS  OF  EASTER 289 

THE  NEW  YEAR  OF  RELIGION 311 


NEW    TABLES    OF    STONE 


NEW    TABLES    OF    STONE 

THE  ancient  world  made  much  of  sacred  moun 
tains.  Many  such  there  were,  from  the  great 
Meru  of  Hindu  imagination,  down  to  Helicon, 
Ida,  and  a  dozen  different  heights  called  Olympus. 
There  the  gods  were  thought  to  dwell  or  come.  There 
they  gave  laws  and  revelations  to  men  ;  —  Ormuzd  to 
Zoroaster  on  the  high  Persian  mount,  Zeus  to  Minos 
on  the  Cretan  Dicte,  Jehovah  to  Moses  on  Sinai.  There 
they  showed  themselves  by  storms ;  —  from  the  great 
Olympian  god  whose  attribute  was  the  thunderbolt 
and  whose  common  Homeric  name  was  the  "  cloud- 
gatherer,"  to  the  god  of  Israel  who  proved  his  pres 
ence  by  "  thunders  and  lightnings  and  a  thick  cloud 
upon  the  mount." 

Poetic  minds  still  find  truth  enough  in  such 
thoughts.  In  our  own  Colorado  is  a  spot  which  even 
a  prosaic  generation  has  named  "  the  garden  of  the 
gods  "  ;  and  on  the  high  mountain-peak  overlooking  it, 
the  sights  of  old  story  are  often  seen.  There,  too, 
that  "  thick  cloud  upon  the  mount  "  still  comes,  — 


4  NEW    TABLES    OE    STONE 

sometimes  so  quickly  that  the  shining  peak,  where 
none  seems  possible  that  day,  is  the  next  minute 
buried  by  it.  Something  like  a  miracle  still  seems 
wrought  there.  The  method  of  it  may  be  explained, 
but  the  power  behind  the  method  remains  as  mysteri 
ous  as  in  Moses'  time.  Modern  science  has  even 
increased  the  marvel.  It  tells  us  that  what  seemed 
a  mere  cloud  is  a  galaxy  of  millions  of  mist-spheres, 
each  rounded  as  perfectly  as  a  planet,  and  all  made 
from  vapor  that  has  perhaps  been  gathered  from 
furthest  seas.  Still  more  the  wonder  grows  when  we 
hear  about  the  substance  of  the  cloud.  Some  tell  us 
that  the  minutest  mote  of  mist  is  composed  of  more 
atoms  than  a  man  could  count  in  a  month  ;  and  that 
each  of  these  atoms  is  moving  several  miles  in  a 
second,  continually  colliding  with  others,  rebounding, 
never  resting.  Some  physicists  even  teach  that  each 
atom,  though  many  million  times  smaller  than  any 
microscope  could  show,  is  yet  in  structure  probably 
a  curious  vortex-ring,  such  as  you  see  puffed  from  the 
mouth  of  a  professional  smoker  or  from  the  stack  of 
a  locomotive,  but  imperishable  and  revolving  forever. 
The  cloud  seems  much  more  miraculous  after  science 
has  explained  it,  than  before. 

There  on  the  Colorado  mount,  the  lightnings,  too, 
still  come  as  in  old  stories.     While  I  was  descending, 


NEW   TABLES    OF    STONE  5 

without  thought  of  storm,  there  suddenly  came  a 
terrific  flash  and  crash,  as  if  the  Olympian  Zeus  and 
Sinaitic  Jehovah  were  both  still  living  right  there  on 
Pike's  Peak.  The  ancients  would  have  heard  in  it  the 
voice  of  a  god,  and  the  moderns  might,  as  well ;  for, 
with  all  our  electrical  science,  the  inner  secret  of  the 
lightning  is  not  in  the  least  understood.  Its  marvels, 
too,  have  greatly  multiplied.  It  is  found  able,  not 
merely  to  flash  from  the  near  clouds,  but  to  fly  invis 
ible  across  the  continent  or  under  the  ocean  ;  to  do  the 
most  powerful  or  the  most  delicate  work,  from  draw 
ing  rail  way -trains  to  delivering  strains  of  music  in  dis 
tant  towns.  This  power,  which  used  so  to  terrify, 
was  yet  ready  to  run  around  the  world  on  our  errands, 
to  drive  machinery  all  the  day,  to  light  our  cities  or 
sick-rooms  all  the  night,  and  to  serve  us  in  countless 
ways  which  seem  only  beginning  now  to  be  found  out. 
It  is  not  only  mightier  than  the  gods  of  old  story,  but 
far  more  beneficent.  The  Roman  Jove  and  Hebrew 
Jehovah  seem  both  still  here,  and  both  much  better 
than  their  ancient  worshipers  knew. 

The  Hebrew  story  told  further  how,  on  the  mount, 
Moses  received  two  "tables  of  stone"  "the  work  of 
God,"  "  written  by  the  finger  of  God."  It  is  not 
strange  that  such  "tables"  or  tablets  of  laws  were 
thought  divine.  The  Roman  "  twelve  tables "  of 


6  NEW   TABLES   OF    STONE 

bronze  were  revered  as  "the  fount  of  all  law,"  and 
Cicero  praised  them  as  "  a  library  of  all  the  philos 
ophers."  Venerated  tablets  were  often  connected 
with  the  gods ;  and  the  Greek  Dionysos  also  had  his 
"two  tables  of  stone."  Sacred  inscriptions  were  often 
ascribed  to  the  literal  hand  of  some  god.  Bunsen 
says  portions  of  the  Egyptian  ritual  "are  expressly 
stated  to  have  been  written  by  the  very  finger  of 
Thoth  himself."  All  such  stories  are  of  course  to  be 
read  with  poetic  freedom. 

But,  —  speaking  with  the  same  freedom,  —  is  noth 
ing  similar  still  to  be  seen  in  our  own  mountains  ? 
The  very  thing  which  named  that  "  garden  of  the 
gods  "  is  huge  "  tables  of  stone,"  set  upright  on  edge 
or  end,  and  curiously  carved.  It  was  proper  enough  to 
credit  them  to  the  gods,  for  they  are  the  work  of  no 
men,  but  are  ages  older  than  Adam.  They  have  come 
from  the  Creator  as  much  as  did  the  tables  in  the 
Mosaic  story,  and  have  been  "  graven  "  by  the  creative 
tools  of  rain  and  frost  and  wind.  Elsewhere,  too,  the 
mountains  abound  in  still  greater  ones,  heaved  and 
hewn  as  by  a  divine  hand.  A  creative  power,  no  less 
mysterious  because  called  by  some  geologic  name,  has 
floored  the  continent  with  stone  strata  miles  in  thick 
ness.  A  creative  power,  no  less  godlike  because  called 
gravity,  has  crumpled  the  continent  like  a  leaf,  raised 


NEW   TABLES    OF   STONE  7 

the  Alleghany  ridges  and  Rocky  Mountain  ranges  as 
its  wrinkles,  broken  and  tilted  the  strata  in  Titanic 
tables,  and  graven  them  by  storm  and  stream.  The 
ancients  called  that  creative  power  "  God,"  and  we 
have  not  yet  coined  any  better  name. 

But  even  more  notable  than  those  great  mountain 
tables  are  the  myriads  of  small  ones  with  which  they 
are  filled ;  —  the  curious  crystals  with  their  shining 
plates  and  prisms,  their  faces  so  perfect  and  lines  so 
precise.  In  their  varied  forms,  their  finish  and  endur 
ance,  they  quite  outdo  the  tablets  that  man  makes. 
Compare  the  slabs  of  ancient  sculpture,  or  of  yester 
day,  with  the  polished  facets  and  perfect  edges  of  a 
quartz  crystal  that  has  stood  a  million  years.  Often, 
too,  crystals  are  as  large  as  human  tablets,  and  some 
times  weigh  a  ton.  But  more  curious  are  the  minute 
ones,  of  countless  forms,  that  have  been  built  by  the 
million  into  the  mountains. 

Nor  need  we  go  to  the  mountains  to  see  them, 
but  find  them  everywhere.  They  are  embedded  in 
the  rock  by  the  roadside.  Their  sea-worn  relics  of 
many  hues  shine  in  the  sand  beneath  our  feet.  Their 
dainty  flakes  and  fragments  float  and  sparkle  even  in 
the  dust  above  our  heads.  Or,  if  you  wish  the  crys 
tals  whole  and  perfect,  you  will  often  find  them  glisten 
ing  by  the  hundred  in  the  cavity  of  a  sand-grain  in 


8  NEW   TABLES    OF    STONE 

the  street,  too  minute  to  see  without  a  glass,  but  as 
finished  as  if  made  for  a  coronation. 

These  tables,  too,  we  may  as  well  call  divine.  They 
are  older  than  man,  and  not  even  understood  by  him. 
Mineralogists  may  explain  them  as  a  "  symmetrical 
marshaling  of  molecules";  —  but  not  even  these  long 
words  account  for  the  crystal  in  the  least,  and  there 
still  remains  the  question  whence  that  wondrous  mar 
shaling  came.  Its  cause  is  as  much  a  mystery  as  ever, 
and  might  just  as  well  be  called  God.  Indeed,  it  was 
while  speaking  of  this  very  thing  that  even  Professor 
Tyndall  turned  aside  to  deny  the  charge  of  atheism, 
and  to  declare  that  the  process  of  crystallization 
always  and  especially  moved  his  mind  to  revere  the 
miraculous  power  working  through  it.  When  we  see 
how  this  power  has  paved  the  whole  planet  with 
tessellated  granites  and  marble  mosaics,  and  that  the 
lines  of  its  sculpture  still  remain  everywhere,  from  the 
mountain  rocks  to  the  sand  rolling  in  the  sea,  —  we  feel 
that  the  earth  is  filled  with  "tables  of  stone"  no  less 
divine  than  those  of  the  Hebrew  story. 

They  are  tables  of  law,  too,  though  the  laws  be 
only  physical.  Law  is  proclaimed  in  their  every  line 
and  angle,  and  nowhere  more  clearly.  The  angles  are 
of  infinite  diversity  according  to  species,  but  each  one 
is  true  to  the  fraction  of  a  degree  ordered  at  creation. 


NEW   TABLES    OF    STONE  9 

To  those  quartz  crystals,  for  instance,  the  order  was 
that  one  of  the  pyramid  angles  should  be  103°:  34' ; 
—  and  so  it  always  is,  whether  coming  from  Alps  or 
Andes.  To  the  feldspar  mingled  with  the  quartz  in 
the  granite,  the  order  was  that  one  angle  should  be 
63°:  57' ;  and  so  it  always  is.  So  with  the  innumer 
able  varieties  of  minerals.  Each  has  its  own  set  of 
angles,  but  is  hewn  true  to  them,  whether  in  the 
latest  rocks  or  ages  earlier.  Long  before  Moses  was 
born  or  Mount  Sinai  created,  crystals  with  their  unerr 
ing  lines  were  showing,  through  all  the  earth,  stone 
tables  of  laws  that  are  never  broken. 

Nor  are  these  laws  without  ethical  meaning.  Though 
only  physical,  they  at  least  typify  moral  laws.  What 
faithfulness  is  taught  in  those  molecules  arranging 
themselves  so  much  more  truly  than  the  soldiers  of 
any  army,  or  than  the  angels  of  Dante's  Eden  !  What 
a  lesson  of  purity  is  taught  by  crystals  casting  out 
uncleanness  !  The  beautiful  Carrara  marble,  in  the 
mountains,  has  its  white  masses  surrounded  by  beds 
of  dark  matter  which  it  has  driven  out  in  the  process 
of  crystallization.  It  seems  to  tell,  as  well  as  any 
preacher,  to  cast  out  inherited  and  inherent  deprav 
ities.  The  worth  of  order  and  purity  is  taught  still 
better  in  other  minerals.  Silicate  of  alumina,  the  sub 
stance  of  common  clay,  by  the  orderly  arrangement  of 


io  NEW   TABLES    OF    STONE 

crystallization,  becomes  the  beryl  which  the  apostle 
puts  in  the  walls  of  the  New  Jerusalem  ;  while  in 
purer  form  it  becomes  the  beautiful  aqua-marine,  and, 
in  still  purer,  the  emerald  itself.  Even  carbon,  the 
substance  of  foul  coal  and  soot,  by  the  same  process 
comes  to  shine  in  diamonds  that  hardly  kings  can 
buy. 

Ruskin  said  crystals  show  a  "stern  code  of  morals," 
and  he  wrote  a  whole  book  on  "  The  Ethics  of  the 
Dust."  He  might  have  carried  his  lessons  further 
had  it  then  been  known  that  every  mist-speck  in  fog 
or  cloud  has  a  minute  particle  of  dust  as  its  nucleus, 
and  that  it  never  forms  without  this.  Without  the  in 
visible  motes  floating  in  the  upper  air,  we  should  not 
have  the  blessing  of  the  cloud  or  the  beauty  of  the 
sunset.  Even  the  dust  has  its  gospel,  and  the  crys 
tallization  behind  so  much  of  it  is  full  of  "ethics." 

Nor  need  we  go  to  old  rocks  and  relics  to  find  crys 
tals.  Their  creation  is  ever  continued.  They  are 
still  made,  not  only  in  the  oceans,  but  in  the  air.  On 
the  mountain  that  day,  though  it  was  a  midsummer 
noon,  from  the  same  sky  that  had  shown  its  sudden 
miracle  of  cloud  and  lightning,  there  came  floating 
down  a  myriad  snoivflakes.  They  were  all  made  of 
crystals  as  curious  as  any  in  the  rocks  around  me. 
Even  more  wonderful  than  those  of  old  oceans  and 


NEW   TABLES   OE    STONE  n 

ages,  seemed  these  that  were  created  so  quickly  in  the 
cloud  that  covered  the  mountain  but  a  few  minutes. 
They  were  far  more  wonderful  in  structure,  too.  They 
showed  not  only  as  perfect  forms,  but  these  combined 
again  into  six-rayed  stars,  each  ray  enriched  by  rows 
of  sparkling  gems,  and  often  feathered  like  a  fern- 
frond,  with  each  filament  dusted  with  diamonds. 
These  stars  were  again  combined  in  clusters,  and  a 
single  snowflake  often  contained  a  whole  constellation 
of  them. 

As  great  a  marvel  as  any  constellation  of  the  sky 
seemed  these  created  so  quickly  in  the  air.  The 
Creator  was  still  present  in  the  cloud.  The  same 
power  that  had  globed  great  worlds  in  the  heavens 
was  here  globing  these  of  mist  by  the  million, 
before  my  eyes  and  within  arm's  reach.  The  same 
power  that  had  floored  the  earth  with  crystals  was 
here  filling  the  air  with  finer  and  more  marvelous  ones. 
The  God  who  made  "tables"  for  Moses  was  still 
making  them,  shaping  them  more  beautiful  than  any 
Sinaitic  slabs,  and  handing  them  down  by  the  myriad 
from  the  very  heavens. 

"Tables  of  stone,"  too,  they  were  in  the  eyes  of 
science,  however  easily  they  might  melt.  They  were 
all  the  more  wonderful  because  melting  so  easily  and 
made  from  mere  water.  Eor  that  water  had  been 


12  NEW   TABLES   OF    STONE 

pumped  from  salt  seas  a  thousand  leagues  away ;  it 
had  been  freshened,  distilled,  purified  in  the  process ; 
it  had  been  lifted  higher  than  the  mountain  peaks  and 
brought  all  this  distance  in  the  arms  of  the  wind ;  it 
had  been  stored  in  the  heavens,  a  vast  ocean  as  invis 
ible  as  spirit  ;  it  had  suddenly  materialized  in  the 
innumerable  globes  and  galaxies  of  the  cloud  ;  it  had 
crystallized  in  these  wondrous  stars,  light  as  down,  yet 
more  perfect  than  cathedral  walls.  As  they  fell  on 
the  mountain  that  day,  mysteriously  dropped  from 
heaven  as  from  a  divine  hand,  not  merely  quarried  and 
carved  in  the  skies,  but  newly  created  there,  they 
seemed,  no  less  than  the  tables  of  the  Hebrew  story, 
"  the  work  of  God  "  and  graven  "  by  the  finger  of 
God." 

But  that  was  only  a  midsummer  scene.  In  other 
months  they  had  been  created  so  much  more  abun 
dantly  that  old  drifts  of  them  lay  a  thousand  feet 
below,  surviving  the  suns  of  many  summers.  Nor 
need  we  go  to  the  mountains  to  see  them,  but  may 
watch  them  falling  in  our  city  streets.  Literature, 
too,  is  full  of  them,  —  back  to  Virgil  and  Xenophon, 
and  to  Homer's  dozen  figures  from  snowfalls  and 
flakes.  Job  counted  them  among  the  wonders  of  the 
Lord,  and,  referring  to  their  mysterious  source  in  the 
heavens,  mocked  man's  inability  to  visit  "  the  store- 


NEW   TABLES    OF    STONE  13 

houses  of  the  snow."  But  the  "storehouses"  were 
nearer  and  stranger  than  Job  knew,  —  not  only  in  the 
heavens,  but  around  our  own  heads,  even  in  our  houses. 
We  read  how,  in  cold  climates,  in  the  heated  and 
moist  air  of  a  dancing-hall,  a  colder  current  sometimes 
makes  the  snowflakes  quickly  form  and  fall.  The 
Creator  of  the  crystalline  mountains  is  right  there  in 
the  ball-room.  He  may  be  found  in  almost  any  room, 
working  the  same  creation  on  the  window-pane,  build 
ing  the  moisture  of  the  breath  into  stars  and  feathery 
sprays. 

For  the  snow  does  not  exhaust  this  winter  creation. 
Without  the  fall  of  a  flake,  these  crystals  are  often 
formed  by  the  million  and  hung  in  rich  clusters  to 
every  twig  and  grass-blade,  making  any  old  fence-rail 
outshine  a  royal  diadem.  Here,  too,  the  Creator  is 
still  at  work.  Thoreau  said,  "God  exhibits  himself 
in  a  frosted  bush  to-day,  as  much  as  he  did  in  a 
burning  one  to  Moses."  All  around  us,  from  the 
autumn  fields  in  a  frosty  morning,  to  the  winter  flakes 
from  the  clouds,  and  the  filmy  stars  that  drop  from 
the  clear  sky  upon  our  coats  and  cloaks,  he  is  still 
handing  down  his  "tables  of  stone." 

They  are  still  tables  of  law,  too ;  and  every  flake 
declares  it  as  clearly  as  the  quartz.  Each  of  its  crys 
tals,  in  its  every  angle,  tells  of  laws  older  than  Adam. 


14  NEW   TABLES    OE    STONE 

Moral  laws,  too,  it  seems  to  teach,  as  well  as  do 
Ruskin's  crystals ;  and  the  "  ethics  of  the  dust "  are 
surpassed  by  the  ethics  of  the  snow.  Better  than 
emerald  or  ruby  do  these  snow-stars  teach  the  beauty 
of  order  and  purity;  and,  comparing  our  ornaments 
with  them,  Thoreau  scornfully  asked,  "  Where  are  the 
jewelers'  shops  ? "  Better  than  Carrara  marble  do 
they  teach  to  cast  out  uncleanness ;  —  for  they  have 
risen  from  brackish  seas  and  filthy  pools,  and  yet  have 
left  the  foulness  of  those  all  behind.  Born  in  deprav 
ity,  they  have  been  regenerated  better  than  sinners 
at  a  revival  meeting.  Look  down  a  city  street  on  a 
cold  winter  morning,  and  you  notice  that  the  whitest 
spots  are  the  mouths  of  the  sewers.  You  see  them 
shining  half  a  mile  away,  clothed  in  cleanest  crys 
tals,  which  yet  have  come  in  the  night  from  the 
foul  liquids  below.  They  seem  to  repeat  that  precept 
which  the  apostle  made  half  of  "pure  religion," — to 
keep  one's  self  "  unspotted  from  the  world." 

Do  they  not  teach  some  of  the  very  commandments 
of  the  Hebrew  "tables"  ?  By  showing  how  invisible 
and  infinite  is  the  divine  power,  they  too  tell  us  not  to 
worship  any  other,  and  not  to  make  "  any  graven  image  " 
thereof,  whether  in  wooden  carving  or  worded  creeds 
and  catechisms.  They  even  suggest  the  command 
ments  against  violence  and  passion,  by  their  lesson  of 


NEW   TABLES    OF    STONE  15 

work  so  gentle,  so  peaceful,  and  yet  so  powerful.  The 
snow  crystal  seems  about  the  weakest  thing  in  the 
world.  Born  of  invisible  vapor,  falling  silently  and 
softly,  lighter  than  the  chemist  can  weigh,  melted  in  a 
moment  by  a  breath  or  a  sunbeam,  —  what  can  it  pos 
sibly  do  ?  Yet  patiently  they  persist,  dropping  one 
by  one  until  they  whiten  the  lawn,  cover  the  county, 
block  the  roads,  stop  the  railway-trains,  conquer  the 
mighty  locomotive ;  —  while  in  mountains  they  pile  in 
avalanches  that  can  sweep  off  forests  like  stubble,  or 
pack  in  glaciers  that  do  still  more  stupendous  work. 
Very  gentle  are  those  glaciers,  too,  —  crawling  down 
the  valley  slower  than  a  snail,  yet  furrowing  the  rocks, 
grinding  quartz  into  clay,  cutting  off  the  mountains 
like  cheese,  and  changing  the  face  of  the  continent. 

Not  only  the  power  of  patience  and  the  law  of 
peace,  but  co-operation  and  brotherly  union,  the  snow- 
flake  teaches.  The  juvenile  rhyme  makes  it  say  to 
its  brothers  :  — 

"  One  of  us  here  would  not  be  felt, 
One  of  us  here  would  quickly  melt  ;  — 
But  I'll  help  you  and  you  help  me, 
And  then  what  a  wonderful  drift  we'll  see." 

A  "wonderful  drift"  indeed  is  one  of  those  glaciers 
that  are  moving  to-day  in  so  many  mountains  and 
countries.  Professor  Wright  says  that  the  Muir 


16  NEW   TABLES    OF    STONE 

glacier  in  Alaska  reaches  the  sea  with  a  front  some 
thing  like  a  thousand  feet  thick,  from  which  a  block 
now  and  then  breaks  with  a  boom  like  a  cannon,  and 
sends  waves  to  "lash  the  shore  with  foam  two  miles 
below."  The  great  Greenland  glacier  is  said  to  be 
five  times  as  large  as  Minnesota,  with  one  of  its  sea- 
fronts  making  for  sixty  miles  "  a  solid  glassy  wall " 
whose  falling  fragments  float  away  as  mighty  icebergs 
to  frighten  our  summer  tourists  in  mid- Atlantic.  But 
even  that  is  hardly  worth  mentioning  beside  the  ancient 
glacier  which  is  said  once  to  have  covered  Canada  and 
a  large  part  of  the  United  States,  and  which  had  an 
average  depth  of  "  three-fourths  of  a  mile."  That  was 
a  snowdrift  to  remember.  We  speak  of  lowering 
the  ocean,  as  if  that  were  the  final  absurdity ;  but  a 
geologist  estimates  that,  to  get  the  snow  for  that 
glacier,  all  the  oceans  on  earth  had  to  be  lowered  one 
hundred  and  fifty  feet.  Or  hear  them  tell  what  it 
did  ;  —  cutting  down  the  Canadian  mountains,  shoving 
their  moraines  along  to  make  our  hills  and  inclose  our 
lakes,  grinding  rocks  into  clay  for  farms,  damming  up 
great  rivers  and  changing  their  course,  digging  out 
vast  hollows  to  make  lakes  Michigan  and  Erie.  Some 
think  that  the  weight  of  that  glacier  even  bent  the 
crust  of  the  earth,  forced  lava  out  of  the  Pacific 
mountains,  as  pressure  does  juice  from  an  orange,— 


NEW   TABLES    OF    STONE  17 

and  perhaps  even  helped  to  raise  the  mountains.  All 
this,  and  more,  they  say,  from  these  silent  snowflakes 
that  melt  before  a  breath  !  These  stone  tables  seem 
to  teach  that  patient  co-operation  which  is  the  aim  of 
the  decalogue. 

They  not  only  teach  this  law,  but  seem  to  sing 
the  beauty  of  creation.  People  praise  the  "  beautiful 
mantle"  of  the  snow  until  we  wish  to  hear  no  more 
of  it.  For  a  change,  think  of  the  mantle's  fibers,  — 
the  flakes  themselves,  with  their  wondrous  structure. 
Six-rayed  stars,  we  have  called  them ;  but  we  would 
better  say  flowers,  —  celestial  species  of  the  six- 
petaled  lily  family,  —  airier  lilies  of  the  heavens,  of 
more  variety  than  those  of  earth.  Still  more  marvel 
ous  these  flowers  become  when  we  add  the  thought  of 
their  origin.  Jesus  well  said,  "  Consider  the  lilies  of 
the  field,  how  they  grow."  But  consider  the  lilies  of 
the  firmament,  how  much  more  wonderfully  they  grow  ; 
without  stem  or  root  or  seed,  budding  out  of  the 
bosom  of  the  storm,  blossoming  from  the  very  blast ; 
yet  so  beautiful  that  "  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  "  was 
indeed  "  not  arrayed  like  one  of  these,"  and  so  abun 
dant  as  to  fall  in  bouquets  by  the  billion. 

Longfellow  called  the  snowfall  "the  poem  of  the 
air."  Tyndall  said  the  atoms  of  the  flake  arrange 
themselves  "as  if  they  moved  to  music,"  and  unite  to 


1 8  NEW    TABLES    OF    STONE 

make  "  that  music  concrete  and  visible."  The  snow- 
flakes  seem  not  only  tables  of  Law,  but  lyrics  and 
"Psalms." 

PropJiets,  too,  the  frost  forms  seem,  foretelling  the 
flowers  and  leaves  that  are  coming.  Aldrich  tells 
it:  — 

"  These  winter  nights  against  my  window-pane, 
Nature  with  busy  pencil  draws  designs 
Of"  ferns  and  blossoms  and  fine  sprays  of  pines, 
Oak  leaves  and  acorns  and  fantastic  vines, 
Which  she  will  make  when  summer  comes  again." 

The  frost  leaves  seem  to  foretell  the  living  ones,  and 
the  snow  lilies  to  prophesy  the  flowers  of  spring. 

They  not  only  prophesy,  but  protect  and  help  to 
produce  the  living  flowers.  Though  seeming  only 
cold,  their  work  is  just  the  opposite.  Crystallization 
always  gives  out  heat,  the  scientists  say.  Every  flake 
and  frost  spangle  has  helped  to  warm  the  air.  They 
not  only  warm  the  air  in  forming,  but  blanket  the 
earth  after  falling.  "  He  giveth  snow  like  wool,"  says 
the  Psalmist ;  and  like  a  flannel  robe  it  wraps  and  pro 
tects  the  earth.  The  melting  drift  in  March  shows 
the  grass  much  greener  under  it  than  in  the  sunshine 
outside.  Half-way  to  the  pole,  I  have  in  early  spring 
scraped  away  the  snow  and  picked  pansies  that  had 
blossomed  beneath.  We  read  how,  by  lake  Superior, 


NEW    TABLES    OF    STONE  19 

the  snowbound  settlers  used  to  dig  through  the  deep 
drifts  in  the  wood  and  find  wild  violets  in  bloom  all 
winter.  Dr.  Kane,  praising  "  the  warm  coverlet  of 
the  snow  "  in  northern  lands,  said,  "  No  eiderdown  in 
the  cradle  of  an  infant  is  tucked  in  more  kindly  than 
this  sleeping  dress  of  winter  about  the  feeble  flower 
life."  What  seems  a  messenger  of  cold  is  really  one 
of  warmth  ;  —  a  blessed  blanket  spun  from  the  sea  and 
woven  by  the  winds,  to  be  renewed  every  winter  and 
removed  every  spring,  without  giving  us  the  trouble 
to  take  care  of  it  the  rest  of  the  year. 

Even  more  does  the  snow  tell  of  warmth,  —  for  its 
frozen  form  is  only  the  last  and  least  part  of  its  life 
history.  The  chief  fact  and  force  which  it  reveals  is 
not  the  cold  which  has  finally  crystallized  it,  —  but 
the  heat  which  lifted  it  so  high  from  tropic  seas,  and 
kept  it  aloft  through  all  the  weeks  or  months  of  its 
wanderings  before  it  reached  us.  Its  real  word  is 
warmth,  —  so  that  Tyndall  said  even  glaciers  are 
to  be  regarded  as  produced  by  heat  rather  than  by 
cold.  Born  from  southern  seas,  begotten  of  the  sun 
shine,  brought  by  the  warm  breezes,  wandering  for 
months  through  the  heavens,  blessing  the  nations  on 
its  way,  now  vanishing  in  vapor  to  soften  the  sun's 
rays,  now  shining  in  the  clouds  of  the  day  and  colors 
of  the  dawn,  repeatedly  melting  and  materializing 


20  NEW    TABLES    OF    STONE 

again,  it  leads  its  long,  beneficent  life.  Freezing  is 
only  the  final  act  by  which  it  dies  and  drops  to  earth 
for  burial. 

And  how  cheery  a  message  it  brings  about  death 
and  burial  !  For  in  dying  it  blossoms  into  stars 
and  Easter  lilies,  and  assumes  a  more  beautiful  form 
than  ever  before,  as  if  rejoicing  in  the  change  that 
morbid  mortals  fear.  Death  clothes  it  in  new  glory, 
just  as  it  does  all  our  friends.  As  the  dying  leaves  in 
autumn  put  on  their  richest  colors,  so  this  dying  vapor 
is  transformed  into  the  most  varied  beauty,  and  seems 
to  say  that  death  is  the  last  thing  we  need  to  be 
anxious  about. 

Nor  does  death  end  its  work.  Not  only  does  it 
warm  the  air  in  dying,  not  only  do  its  dead  forms 
protect  and  bless  the  earth  while  they  remain  unburied ; 
but  their  burial  blesses  it  again.  Their  melting  re 
freshes  the  fields,  cleans  the  yards  and  streets,  carries 
off  the  winter's  accumulated  filth  that  this  may  turn 
into  fertility  and  fruit ;  —  like  many  a  thaw  in  our  own 
lives,  which  seems  to  bring  only  loss,  but  is  rather  the 
removal  of  worn-out  forms  to  purify  and  prepare  us 
for  a  new  season  of  growth. 

Not  even  the  snow  itself  is  lost  by  its  death  and 
decomposition.  Its  substance  is  all  saved  and  cannot 
perish.  It  vanishes,  like  all  material  things,  but  only 


NEW    TABLES    OF    STONE  21 

disappears  to  rise  again  and  live  in  freer  form.  Re 
vived  by  the  unfailing  sun,  it  is  again  raised  to  refresh 
the  summer  air,  to  sparkle  in  the  morning  dew,  to 
float  in  clouds,  to  shine  in  sunsets,  to  fall  in  showers, 
to  freshen  the  fields,  and  to  reach  a  still  higher  life  in 
leaf  and  flower.  Whether  soaring  invisible  in  the  blue 
sky,  or  sinking  in  earth  or  sea,  it  is  still  alive,  and,  like 
Shelley's  "Cloud,"  it  mocks  the  thought  of  death  and 
sings  its  own  survival :  — 

"  I  am  the  daughter  of  earth  and  water, 

And  the  nursling  of  the  sky  ; 
I  pass  through  the  pores  of  the  ocean  and  shores  ; 
I  change,  but  I  cannot  die. 

"I  silently  laugh  at  my  own  cenotaph, 

And  out  of  the  caverns  of  rain, 

Like  a  child  from  the  womb,  like  a  ghost  from  the  tomb, 
I  arise  and  upbuild  it  again." 

So  does  even  the  winter  storm  seem  a  smile  from 
heaven.  It  is  a  Revelation,  bringing  not  only  tables 
of  Law,  but  Psalms  of  beauty,  Prophecies  of  life,  and 
whispers  of  a  Love  underlying  all  law  and  infolding 
all  life. 


UNITY    THROUGH    DIVERSITY 


UNITY    THROUGH    DIVERSITY 

NATURE  seems  ever  to  aim  at  diversity,  and  to 
show  more  of  it  with  every  advance.  One 
nebula  is  supposed  to  have  divided  into  all  the 
worlds  of  the  solar  system.  In  our  world,  a  few 
simple  elements  have  formed  countless  compounds 
growing  ever  more  complex.  In  the  most  complex, 
life  came  and  multiplied  the  diversity  far  more.  It 
divided  into  vegetable  and  animal,  and  each  of  these 
into  species  innumerable.  In  them,  too,  the  higher 
the  form,  the  more  diverse  its  parts.  A  human  body, 
with  its  intricate  muscles,  nerves,  brain,  is  probably 
the  most  complicated  organism  on  earth. 

The  human  race  has  also  separated  into  countless 
nations,  with  diverse  languages,  modes  of  life,  and 
divisions  of  labor.  Unlike  other  genera,  it  has  carried 
its  diversity  even  to  individuals.  The  bees  of  a 
hive,  the  birds  of  a  flock,  look  much  alike ;  but  men 
quite  unlike,  and  the  more  so  the  more  they  advance. 
The  members  of  a  savage  tribe  show  much  resem 
blance  ;  but  in  civilized  society,  even  two  brothers 
often  seem  to  belong  to  different  orders,  and  to  be 


26         UNITY    THROUGH    DIVERSITY 

further  apart  than  a  hawk  and  a  dove.  In  short,  this 
law  of  diversity,  ever  working  from  the  nebula  onward, 
has  at  length,  in  the  human  race,  brought  innumerable 
millions  of  forms,  faces,  even  voices,  —  hardly  any  two 
alike. 

It  has  brought  no  less  variety  in  intellectual  things. 
Two  men,  with  very  similar  faces  or  forms,  may,  in 
their  knowledge  and  thought,  be  no  more  alike  than  a 
bird  and  a  fish.  Each  one  also  differs,  not  only  from 
his  neighbor,  but  from  himself,  often  changing  his 
opinion.  Pope  said  that  every  year  of  a  wise  man  is 
a  censure  of  his  past ;  the  one  with  the  shortest  life 
lives  long  enough  to  laugh  at  half  of  it.  For,  the 
more  men  advance,  the  more  their  thoughts  differ,  and 
the  greatest  variety  of  opinion  is  among  the  learned. 
Scholars  cannot  agree  who  Buddha  was,  whether 
Homer  was  one  man  or  twenty,  when  Zoroaster  lived, 
or  whether  he  ever  lived  at  all.  Historians  cannot 
agree,  —  and  the  more  learned  they  are  the  less  certain 
they  feel.  The  village  school-girl  in  her  essay  settles 
some  historic  question  very  easily,  but  Motley  said 
history  cannot  be  written.  Taine,  after  writing  three 
volumes  on  the  French  Revolution,  began  the  fourth 
with  a  confession  that  he  had  not  yet  been  able  to 
arrive  at  any  fixed  principles  about  it,  except  that 
"modern  society  is  a  vast  and  complicated  thing." 


UNITY  THROUGH    DIVERSITY         27 

Even  about  events  in  their  midst,  men  differ.  After 
hearing  testimony  for  weeks,  the  jury  cannot  agree 
whether  the  prisoner  is  guilty  or  not.  It  is  said  that 
Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  after  trying  in  vain  to  learn  the 
facts  about  a  dog-fight  in  front  of  his  house  one  morn 
ing,  went  back  with  much  less  assurance  to  his  great 
work  on  "  The  History  of  the  World."  No  more  do 
students  of  social  questions  agree.  Each  school  has 
some  panacea  which  others  think  pernicious ;  while 
many  think  that  all  are,  and  that  the  true  cure  is  to 
let  alone.  D.  A.  Wells  said  that,  in  a  congressional 
inquiry  concerning  business  depression,  "  the  causes 
assigned  by  the  various  witnesses  were  comprised 
under  no  less  than  180  heads,"  and  that  a  British 
Commission  showed  "  almost  equal  diversity  of  opin 
ion."  Often,  too,  the  opinions  are  most  contradictory. 
The  protectionist  and  free-trader  think  each  other 
fools,  and  hardly  can  politeness  or  piety  keep  them 
from  saying  so. 

Even  in  matters  of  physical  science,  men  disagree, 
and  the  professors  dispute  at  every  meeting.  Not  even 
in  so  vital  a  profession  as  the  medical  is  there  that 
unanimity  which  we  would  like  in  case  of  sickness. 
Doctors  cannot  agree  whether  the  patient  has  cholera, 
or  what  to  give  him  if  he  has,  or  how  much  of  it. 
While  one  prescribes  most  generous  doses,  another 


28         UNITY  THROUGH    DIVERSITY 

favors  dilutions  said  to  be  about  as  infinitesimal  as  if 
he  should  drop  a  pill  into  the  upper  Mississippi  and 
then  treat  the  patient  from  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  The 
patients  themselves  are  little  more  agreed.  While 
some  people  seem  to  think  that  disease  is  almost  the 
chief  end  of  man,  a  large  body  to-day,  who  claim  to 
have  reached  the  most  advanced  "  Science,"  are  teach 
ing  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  disease.  After 
being  disgraced  with  deafness  for  thirty  years,  I  was 
the  other  day  informed  by  a  friend  that  she  does  not 
believe  it  is  possible  for  any  person  to  be  deaf  at  all. 

When  men  thus  disagree  about  physical  things, 
they  of  course  will  about  spiritual.  When  two  per 
sons  dispute  about  even  the  plain  color  of  some  form, 
we  cannot  expect  agreement  about  formless  things 
that  no  senses  can  perceive.  As  Dr.  Holmes  said  :  — 

"  Why  should  we  look  one  common  faith  to  find, 
When  one  in  every  score  is  color-blind  ? 
If  here  on  earth  they  know  not  red  from  green, 
Will  they  see  better  in  the  things  not  seen  ? " 

Certainly  these  unseen  things  have  been  subjects  for 
endless  disagreements.  Thoughts  about  the  soul  have 
ranged  from  the  idea  that  it  is  a  secretion  of  the  brain, 
to  the  idea  that  it  is  a  spark  from  deity ;  from  the 
opinion  that  mind  is  only  matter,  to  the  opinion  that 
matter  is  all  mind,  and  to  the  further  one  that  both 


UNITY    THROUGH    DIVERSITY         29 

are  illusions,  with  no  reality  at  all.  Thoughts  about 
deity  have  ranged  all  the  way  from  polytheism,  with 
its  millions  of  Gods  and  motley  fancies  about  them,  to 
atheism  protesting  against  the  idea  of  any  God  what 
soever. 

Even  the  belief  in  one  God  has  brought  no  more 
agreement  about  him,  but  has  reached  from  the  doc 
trine  that  he  is  fickle  and  moved  by  prayer,  to  the 
faith  that  he  rules  everywhere  by  law,  making  prayers 
an  impertinence ;  —  from  the  thought  that  he  has 
human  appetite  and  passion,  to  the  thought  that  he 
has  not  even  personality.  Not  even  the  monotheists 
worshiping  the  same  Jehovah  have  agreed ;  but  Jews, 
Christians,  and  Mohammedans  have  hated  each  other 
in  his  name.  Each  of  these  three  divisions  has  had 
its  subdivisions,  too.  Numerous  sects  have  arisen 
even  in  Israel.  Still  more  have  arisen  among  Moham 
medans.  Palgrave  told  of  an  Arabian  preacher  whom 
he  heard  describing  the  seventy-two  Moslem  denom 
inations  and  condemning  seventy-one  of  them  as  des 
tined  to  eternal  fire. 

Nor  could  even  Christianity  escape  this  tendency, 
though  its  founder  had  based  it  on  brotherhood  and 
unity.  The  divisions  began  very  early,  in  the  apostles' 
own  time.  Paul  tells  of  several  in  the  single  church 
of  Corinth,  and  he  especially  urges  them  to  become 


30         UNITY    THROUGH    DIVERSITY 

united  and  "  all  speak  the  same  thing."  But  they 
could  not.  The  law  of  Nature  was  against  it,  — and 
Christianity  soon  counted  more  sects  than  Christ  left 
disciples.  In  the  second  century,  Irenaeus  gave  a 
long  list  of  them,  and  they  soon  outnumbered  his  list. 
The  Gnostic  Christians  alone,  says  Gibbon,  "  imper 
ceptibly  divided  into  more  than  fifty  particular  sects." 
The  fourth  century  saw  not  only  the  great  division 
between  Athanasians  and  Arians,  but  many  other 
important  parties.  Among  the  Arians  alone  eighteen 
sub-sects  afterwards  arose.  In  the  fifth  century 
divisions  were  so  frequent  that  Hilary  wrote,  "  Every 
year,  nay,  every  month,  we  make  new  creeds,"  and 
"there  are  as  many  doctrines  among  Christians  as 
there  are  individual  inclinations."  So  active  was  the 
tendency  to  division  even  in  the  church  of  Christ. 

The  so-called  "dark  ages"  of  course  checked  this 
tendency,  and  for  a  time  there  was  comparative  agree 
ment,  especially  in  the  Western  church.  But  with 
the  renaissance  and  new  life  of  thought,  the  divisions 
again  appeared.  Not  only  was  Protestantism  divided 
from  the  Roman  and  Greek  churches,  but  its  freer 
thought  made  it  the  field  for  new  diversities  ever 
increasing.  Protestants,  though  especially  professing 
to  base  their  belief  upon  an  infallible  book  so  clear 
that  "the  wayfaring  man  though  a  fool  need  not  err," 


UNITY    THROUGH    DIVERSITY         31 

yet  soon  found  that  they  differed  more,  with  this 
book  to  unite  them,  than  they  had  without  it.  Some 
exalted  one  text  and  some  another ;  and  all  read,  in 
each  text,  not  so  much  what  the  author  put  there,  as 
their  own  opinion.  Hence  they  found  the  most  diverse 
doctrines,  —  baptism  by  sprinkling,  baptism  by  immer 
sion,  and  no  baptism  at  all ;  the  keeping  of  Sunday, 
the  keeping  of  Saturday,  and  the  keeping  of  no  day 
whatsoever ;  universal  salvation  and  almost  universal 
perdition.  Biblical  texts  have  been  distorted  about  as 
badly  as  in  Swift's  satire,  being  made  to  prove  any 
doctrine,  whether  theologic  or  scientific.  A  clergyman 
of  my  acquaintance,  having  been  converted  to  the 
theory  of  evolution,  wrote  an  elaborate  book  to  show 
that  it  was  all  taught  in  the  first  chapter  of  the  Bible. 
Professor  Gunning  told  of  one  he  knew  who  had  dis 
covered  protoplasm  in  one  of  the  Psalms.  A  work 
has  been  published  taking  great  pains  to  show  that  the 
book  of  Job  was  a  prophecy  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
and  that  its  "  leviathan  "  really  meant  a  modern  steamer, 
its  "behemoth"  a  railway-train.  Nor  are  such  inter 
pretations  any  more  remarkable  than  Mr.  Moody's 
familiar  doctrine  that  the  vicarious  atonement  was 
taught  in  every  Scriptural  allusion  to  blood,  and  that 
Christ's  sacrifice  to  cover  the  sins  of  men  was  pre 
figured  even  in  Eden  by  the  animals  slain  to  clothe 


32         UNITY    THROUGH    DIVERSITY 

Adam  and  Eve.  So  easy  is  it  for  human  thought  to 
find  any  and  all  of  its  opinions  in  any  book  whatso 
ever. 

Hence,  notwithstanding  their  devotion  to  the  Bible, 
Protestants  increased  their  diversity  of  opinion  and 
their  divisions.  Not  even  the  established  Church  of 
England  could  prevent  this,  but  has  itself  divided  into 
High,  Low,  and  Broad ;  while  under  its  shadow  dis 
senting  sects  have  multiplied  until  a  recent  writer 
enumerated  over  a  hundred  and  said  that  these  are 
probably  only  about  one-third  of  them.  The  same 
process  has  been  active  in  our  own  country.  A  recent 
census  showed  not  only  so  many  different  denomina 
tions,  but  the  Baptists  redivided  into  thirteen  kinds, 
the  Lutherans  into  sixteen  kinds,  the  Methodists  into 
seventeen,  and  even  the  little  body  of  Mennonites 
into  twelve.  More  significant,  perhaps,  the  quiet  and 
peaceful  "  Friends  "  had  separated  into  four  parties. 
Even  the  little  band  of  the  "United  Brethren"  had 
divided.  Some  churches  seem  to  be  moving  toward 
the  state  of  the  storied  one  which,  by  repeated  division, 
had  been  reduced  to  two  members,  each  of  whom  was 
beginning  to  suspect  the  other  of  heresy.  To  an 
Irishman's  remark  that  religion  is  "a  very  fine 
thing,"  another  replied  :  "  Yes,  indeed ;  I  get  into 
more  fights  about  religion  than  about  almost  anything 


UNITY    THROUGH    DIVERSITY         33 

else  in  the  world."  So  perhaps  does  the  human  race, 
—  though  generally  of  course,  in  a  far  quieter  way 
than  this  strenuous  Irishman  would  commend.  At 
any  rate,  they  are  ever  dividing  on  religious  ques 
tions. 

Nor  would  we  condemn  this  in  the  least,  as  long  as 
it  is  carried  on  peacefully.  This  diversity  is  the  law 
of  Nature,  —  to  be  fulfilled  in  religion  as  in  the  race, 
in  faiths  as  in  faces.  The  more  we  advance,  the  more 
it  will  be  seen.  In  religion  as  in  life,  the  lower  orders 
may  be  classified  in  great  genera  and  species,  - 
Protestant  or  Catholic,  —  Episcopalian,  or  Baptist,  or 
Sandemanian,  —  all  true  to  their  type  ;  but  the  higher, 
like  men,  will  diverge  from  the  type,  and,  though  keep 
ing  its  name,  will  become  individual,  each  member 
forming  his  own  opinion.  "  Agree,"  says  the  church  ; 
— "  differ,"  answers  Nature  ;  —  and  there  is  no  doubt 
as  to  which  command  will  conquer.  Diversity  will 
last  and  grow. 

But  diversity  is  only  half  the  truth  ;  and  while  trac 
ing  it  we  have  also  been  seeing  the  other  half, — 
Unity,  For  we  have  seen  that  these  diversities  are 
all  connected  by  common  origin,  like  the  branches  and 
twigs  of  a  tree  by  its  trunk.  These  hundreds  of  sects 
have  sprung  from  a  common  Protestantism  ;  Protest- 


34         UNITY    THROUGH    DIVERSITY 

ants  and  Catholics  from  a  common  Christianity ; 
Christianity  itself  from  the  Hebrew  stock  grafted 
with  Greek  thought  ;  and  both  Hebrew  and  Greek 
thought  have  grown  from  the  same  human  sentiments 
which  have  produced  all  other  religions.  All  the 
countless  present  and  past  religious  forms  are  but 
branches  of  the  same  great  tree  of  spiritual  life,  —  some 
higher,  some  lower,  some  flowering  and  fruiting,  some 
barren  and  dead,  but  all  one,  at  least  in  their  origin. 
Religion  is  beginning  to  see  that  all  its  diversities  are 
but  superficial  developments  of  a  deeper  unity.  They 
are,  at  any  rate,  akin,  and  ought  to  forget  their  former 
quarrels,  —  as  the  wise  old  Greeks  ordained  that,  in 
all  their  fraternal  wars,  the  trophies  must  be  made  of 
perishable  wood  and  never  renewed. 

But  beyond  this  unity  of  origin  is  another,  —  that 
of  the  common  truths  still  held  by  all.  These  Chris 
tian  sects,  with  all  their  diversities,  yet  agree  with 
each  other  much  more  than  they  differ ;  and  agree 
with  Hebrews,  heretics,  and  heathen  more  than  they 
differ  from  these.  Most  religions  preach  quite  similar 
ideals,  while  all  fall  short  of  them  in  practice.  Most 
religions  have  taught  "to  do  justly  and  to  love  mercy 
and  to  walk  humbly  with  God," — which,  the  Hebrew 
prophet  said,  was  all  that  the  Lord  required.  Most 
have  exhorted  their  adherents  to  keep  unspotted  from 


UNITY    THROUGH    DIVERSITY         35 

the  world,  and  to  visit  the  fatherless  and  afflicted,  — 
which  was  the  Christian  apostle's  definition  of  "  pure 
religion   and    unclefiled."      In   these    essentials   they 
agree. 

And  how  often  the  outward  forms,  in  which  they 
disagree,  have  a  kindred  meaning  !  Huxley  said  that 
if  Marcus  Antoninus  could  descend  from  his  marble 
horse  on  the  Capitoline  hill  and  study  the  idolatry  in 
Rome  to-day,  the  chief  difference  he  would  discover 
between  it  and  the  old  pagan  idolatry  would  be  in  the 
poor  quality  of  modern  idols  as  works  of  art.  But 
how  much  of  the  use  of  idols,  both  pagan  and  Chris 
tian,  has  been  only  symbolic  of  what  Dyer  terms 
"  that  worship  of  ideals  miscalled  idolatry."  Most 
religious  observances  cover  some  truth,  which  is  kept 
even  by  those  who  reject  them.  Howsoever  good 
people  baptize,  or  whether  they  baptize  at  all,  they 
believe  in  the  purity  which  baptism  symbolizes. 
Whether  their  leading  sacrament  be  the  sacrifice  of 
sheep  at  the  altar,  or  the  sacrifice  of  the  mass,  or  the 
sacrifice  of  their  own  substance  and  selves  in  the 
duties  of  life,  —  it  is  only  a  different  expression  of 
the  same  truth.  However  diversely  they  may  think 
of  the  redeeming  power  and  divinity  of  Christ,  they 
agree  about  the  redeeming  power  and  divinity  of  the 
love  which  is  that  name's  best  meaning.  After  talk- 


36         UNITY    THROUGH    DIVERSITY 

ing  with  a  clergyman,  I  said  to  him,  "We  agree  well 
enough,  —  only  you  insist  that  our  ideal  shall  be  called 
'  Christ,'  while  I  care  not  what  it  is  called." 

Even  the  diverse  forms  of  prayer  are  not  so  differ 
ent  as  they  seem.  Whether  men  pray  against  disease 
by  turning  Buddhist  cylinders,  by  repeating  Moslem 
sentences,  by  taking  medicine,  or  by  learning  the  laws 
of  health,  they  are  seeking  the  same  thing  ;  and  how 
ever  different  the  ways  of  seeking,  each  man  is  follow 
ing  the  way  he  thinks  best,  —  and  to  that  extent  they 
agree.  Whether  they  pray  for  their  daily  bread  by 
spoken  petitions,  or  by  plows  and  patent  planters,  they 
are  making  the  same  prayer  to  the  God  of  the  fields, 
each  man  according  to  his  intelligence.  Whether  they 
seek  more  spiritual  blessings  by  the  way  of  appeal  and 
aspiration,  or  by  the  way  of  will  and  work,  it  is  all  the 
same  religion. 

Often,  too,  the  differences  are  only  in  names  and 
words ;  —  as  in  that  Eastern  parable  of  the  four  travel 
ers  contending  fiercely  as  to  what  particular  food  they 
should  buy,  and  finding  at  last  that  they  had  been 
quarreling  about  four  different  names  for  the  same 
grape.  Sometimes  the  names  themselves  prove  to 
have  been  the  same,  —  as  in  the  discovery  that 
the  Christian  "  Heavenly  Father  "  is  the  same  term 
as  the  Roman  "Jupiter."  Language  often  teaches 


UNITY    THROUGH    DIVERSITY         37 

this  lesson  of  unity  by  showing  the  identity  of  the 
most  unlike  words.  Our  "bishop"  and  the  French 
"foeqne"  are  as  unlike  as  two  words  can  be,  —  not 
having  a  letter  in  common  ;  yet  they  not  only  mean 
the  same  thing,  but  are  the  same  word,  both  having 
come  from  the  Greek  "  episcopos."  They  hint  that 
English  Protestant  and  French  Catholic,  though  often 
thinking  that  they  have  nothing  in  common,  are  yet 
one,  and  one  with  the  Greek  church ;  one  even  with 
the  heathen  Homer,  who  used  the  same  word  so  many 
centuries  before  Christianity,  and  even  used  it  of  har 
mony,  —  "  episcopal  harmoniaon"  The  word  has  still 
larger  suggestions,  for  its  root,  "  skop,"  is  also  that  of 
our  "skeptic."  Bishop  and  skeptic  are  linked  in  lan 
guage,  and  are  learning  that  they  are  linked  in  religion 
also,  both  laboring  in  the  same  sacred  episcopate. 
Religion  needs  the  seers  quite  as  much  as  the  over 
seers,  and  skeptics  have  often  called  bishops  back  to 
the  humane  principles  of  Christ.  It  was  once  said 
that  Bradlaugh,  the  atheist,  ought  to  be  made  Arch 
bishop  of  Canterbury,  since  he  was  truer  to  Jesus' 
fundamental  teachings  of  peace  and  forgiveness  than 
was  the  occupant  of  that  sacred  office.  Nor  can  such 
atheists  be  counted  as  irreligious  even  ;  for  they  have 
usually  not  denied  Deity,  but  only  narrow  doctrines 
about  him,  thereby  asserting  greater. 


38         UNITY    THROUGH    DIVERSITY 

Beyond  this  unity  of  origin,  and  of  common  truth 
beneath  the  diversities,  is  a  third,  which  the  diversities 
have  brought.  They  have  themselves  been  cultivat 
ing  toleration,  and  bringing  "  the  unity  of  the  spirit 
in  the  bond  of  peace."  What  indeed  has  done  more 
than  these  diversities  to  bring  peace  and  charity  among 
men  ?  When  a  community  all  believe  alike,  they 
cannot  be  charitable,  but  will  persecute  each  new 
thought,  and  the  thinker  with  it,  as  the  medieval 
church  did.  But  as  they  become  divided  in  their 
opinions,  they  are  forced  to  endure  and  forgive  each 
other,  as  modern  sects  have  been  learning  to  do.  We 
want  no  more  uniformity  of  belief.  If  even  the  most 
liberal  sect  should  become  universal,  it  might  found 
an  inquisition  for  heresy  and  hold  an  occasional 
auto-da-fc.  As  Voltaire  said  :  "  If  there  were  but 
one  religion  in  England,  its  tyranny  would  be  terrible ; 
if  there  were  but  two,  they  would  cut  each  other's 
throats ;  but  there  are  thirty,  and  they  live  in  peace." 
We  may  add  that  now,  when  there  are  230,  they  are 
still  more  peaceful.  Men  whose  differences  would 
once  have  made  them  burn  each  other  are  joined 
in  new  brotherhood,  and  bettered  in  many  ways. 
John  Fiske,  declaring  that  "  uniformity  of  belief 
should  be  dreaded  as  tending  toward  Chinese  narrow 
ness  and  stagnation,"  adds  that  England's  "  imperial 


UNITY    THROUGH    DIVERSITY         39 

position  in  the  modern  world  "  is  largely  due  to  the 
fact  that,  "  on  that  hospitable  soil,  all  types  of  charac 
ter,  all  varieties  of  temper,  all  shades  of  belief  have 
flourished  side  by  side  and  have  interacted  upon  one 
another."  We  want  all  these  diversities ;  for  out  of 
them  is  coming  a  larger  thought,  a  broader  charity 
and  brotherhood,  the  best  religious  unity. 

So  we  reach  the  full  statement  of  the  law  of  growth. 
It  is  not  merely  "  from  unity  to  diversity,"  but  "from 
unity  tJirongJi  diversity  to  a  truer  Unity."  This  is 
illustrated  everywhere.  The  uniform  nebula  separated 
into  diverse  worlds,  only  to  become  more  closely  united 
in  a  system  where  each  satellite  moves  in  harmony  and 
sympathy  with  every  other ;  where  a  storm  in  the  sun 
quickly  sways  all  the  magnetic  needles  on  earth.  So 
in  animal  life,  the  multiplying  organs  have  brought 
far  closer  unity.  In  contrast  with  those  lower  creatures 
of  uniform  structure  which  can  be  cut  into  two  pieces 
without  perceiving  that  anything  has  happened,  the 
complex  human  body  is  so  united  that,  as  Paul  said, 
"  if  one  member  suffer,  all  the  members  suffer  with 
it,"  and  a  mere  scratch  in  the  hand  may  bring  con 
vulsions  and  death. 

So  in  society,  which  has  been  so  often  compared 
to  an  animal  body.  The  growing  divisions  of  labor 
and  diversities  of  life  have  been  uniting  mankind. 


40         UNITY    THROUGH    DIVERSITY 

In  contrast  to  a  molluscous  society  of  savages  dig 
ging  their  roots  and  catching  their  lizards  inde 
pendent  of  the  world  and  of  each  other,  we  depend 
for  breakfast  on  Dakota  farmers  and  Minnesota 
millers  and  Texas  ranchmen  and  California  fruit- 
raisers  and  Javanese  planters,  and  on  many  miners 
and  merchants  and  railroads.  We  cannot  even  get 
the  watch  to  tell  us  when  to  eat  until  a  score  of  nations 
and  a  hundred  trades  have  combined  to  make  it.  All 
lives  have  become  so  interlinked  that  Carlyle  said 
the  Winnipeg  Indian  cannot  quarrel  with  his  squaw 
without  raising  the  price  of  pelts  and  making  the  whole 
world  suffer. 

To  the  human  body,  with  its  "many  members," 
Paul  compared  religion  also  ;  and  he  so  liked  the  com 
parison  that  he  repeated  it  two  or  three  times,  and 
once  drew  it  out  through  most  of  a  chapter.  He  did 
not  want  men  pressed  into  the  same  mold,  like  bricks, 
to  be  baked  and  built  into  a  rigid  church,  but  likened 
religion  to  the  most  living  and  free  and  complex  body 
known.  Naturally,  the  Messiah  was  figured  as  the 
head  of  that  body ;  —  and  so  he  may  be,  if  we  mean 
thereby,  not  a  mere  person  about  whom  opinions 
differ,  but  those  principles  of  righteousness  and  love 
which,  to  the  best  thinkers  in  Israel  and  Christendom 
alike,  the  Messiah  means.  More  and  more  are  Chris- 


UNITY    THROUGH    DIVERSITY         41 

tians  becoming  such  a  body,  and  more  and  more  they 
will  unite  with  other  religions  in  a  grander  body.  Its 
diverse  members  will  all  work  and  worship  in  their 
own  ways,  but  will  have  a  common  head  in  the 
Messianic  rule  of  righteousness,  and  a  common  heart 
sending  its  warm  circulation  of  sympathy  through  all 
mankind.  Should  such  a  body  ever  be  realized,  there 
would  come  a  religious  life  compared  with  which  the 
present  quarrels  of  sects  would  seem  like  savagery,  and 
mere  uniformity  of  belief  like  a  mollusc  beside  a  man, 
or  a  nebula  beside  the  varied  life  of  a  May  morning. 

Welcome,  then,  to  all  movements  for  union.  The 
sacred  name  "  pontiff,"  applied  alike  to  the  old  Roman 
and  Jewish  and  Christian  priesthoods,  meant  literally 
a  "bridge-builder";  and  a  movement  to  bridge  the 
chasms  across  which  rival  religions  have  long  cursed 
each  other,  and  to  join  them  in  mutual  intercourse  and 
charity,  will  make  the  best  pontificate  the  world  has 
known. 

Not  that  we  would  wish  the  dividing  lines  obliterated 
and  all  religions  merged  in  one.  We  want  no  univer 
sal  church  based  on  compromise  or  on  contradictions, 
—  like  that  accommodating  academy  which  advertised 
that  it  would  teach  pupils  to  believe  the  earth  round 
or  flat,  as  the  parents  might  prefer.  Rather,  let  each 
religion  and  sect  teach  its  own  belief  and  worship  in 


42         UNITY    THROUGH    DIVERSITY 

its  own  way.  But  let  each  remember  how  much  it 
has  in  common  with  all  the  rest,  and  in  this  common 
work  let  all  be  willing  to  unite.  By  such  union  none 
will  lose  his  religion,  but  all  will  find  more. 

As  in  a  great  cathedral  men  come  out  from  the 
little  side  chapels  and  shrines,  to  meet  before  the  high 
altar  and  beneath  the  vaster  vault ;  —  so,  in  leaving  our 
sectarian  services  to  join  with  others  in  the  common 
work  for  justice  and  humanity,  we  find  that  we  have 
only  come  beneath  a  loftier  religious  roof,  to  unite  in 
a  larger  worship.  Even  if  we  do  not  so  unite,  our 
worships  do,  —  as  in  that  old  English  abbey  where  the 
men  and  women  sang  their  hymns  apart,  hidden  from 
each  other  by  a  dividing  wall,  but  with  their  voices 
mingling  above  it  in  harmony.  The  dividing  walls 
still  stand  in  the  religious  world,  and  probably  will  for 
many  centuries  to  come.  But  above  the  walls,  the 
varied  strains  from  womanly  devotion  and  manly  dar 
ing,  from  all  honest  liturgies  and  labors,  mingle  in 
one  music  to  the  Eternal  Power  by  whom  all  have 
been  produced  and  all  are  accepted. 


NEW    LEAVES    OF    SCRIPTURE 


NEW    LEAVES    OF    SCRIPTURE 

THE  foliage  has  too  long  been  used  for  funereal 
lessons.  Homer's  Glaucus  sang  how  human 
generations  come  and  go  like  "the  race  of 
leaves"  which  "the  wind  sheds  upon  the  ground." 
Aristophanes'  "  Birds  "  mocked  men  with  the  same 
comparison.  The  great  Hebrew  prophet  said,  "We 
all  do  fade  as  a  leaf  "  ;  and  the  figure  often  recurs  in 
the  Bible.  Dante  made  the  falling  leaves  illustrate 
the  still  direr  fate  of  dead  souls  dropping  one  by  one 
into  Charon's  boat,  to  be  borne  over  Acheron's  "  brown 
wave  "to  the  infernal  pit  and  punishment.  Modern 
poets  have  continued  the  dirge ;  —  from  Bryant,  moan 
ing  that  "  the  melancholy  days  have  come,  the  saddest 
of  the  year,"  to  William  Watson,  singing  their  glories, 
but  still  hearing  in  them  the  "  voice  of  everything  that 
perishes,"  the  "metaphor  of  everything  that  dies." 
Especially  have  preachers  made  the  falling  leaves  a 
favorite  text,  and  drawn  from  them  sermons  drearier 
than  a  November  storm. 

But  this  is  hardly  fair  to  either  us  or  the  leaves. 
They  may  fade  and  fall ;  but  to  make  that  their  lesson 


46         NEW    LEAVES   OF    SCRIPTURE 

is  to  distort  the  truth.  For  the  chief  fact  about  the 
foliage  is  not  that  it  fades  for  a  few  days,  but  that  it 
flourishes  for  a  whole  season.  The  chief  fact  about 
each  leaf  is  not  that  it  falls  for  a  moment,  but  that  for 
month  after  month  it  refuses  to  fall,  though  all  the 
winds  are  trying  to  tear  it  from  the  tree.  Through 
long  weeks  of  drought,  through  storms  that  wreck 
ships  and  unroof  houses,  the  leaf  works  on,  with  no 
fears  of  a  fall. 

Even  when  it  falls,  it  may  not  have  faded.  The 
October  landscape  seems  keeping  festival  rather  than 
funeral,  and  its  foliage  is  often  brighter  than  summer 
blossoms.  Thoreau  called  the  scarlet  oaks,  in  autumn, 
" forest-flowers,"  and  said,  "these  are  my  China-asters," 
or  "great  oak  roses,"  to  be  admired  miles  away,  and 
richer  than  "  all  that  spring  or  summer  can  do." 
Often,  we  may  add,  this  autumn  flower  is  not  merely 
a  tree,  but  an  acre  of  them,  showing  a  whole  forest 
hollow  turned  into  one  blossom,  whose  stamens  are 
golden  poplars  or  hickories,  and  whose  petals  are  whole 
hillsides  of  crimsoned  oaks  and  sumachs,  spotted  with 
blazing  bushes  and  streaked  with  vines  of  more  colors 
than  any  corolla  can  show.  The  autumn  landscape 
seems  to  say  that  if  "we  all  do  fade  as  a  leaf,"  we 
need  not  lament. 

Even  if  the  falling  leaves  call  for  a  funeral  discourse, 


NEW    LEAVES   OF    SCRIPTURE         47 

it  should  be  a  healthy  one,  telling  what  they  have  done. 
They  deserve  our  eulogy  for  services  innumerable. 
Even  literature  owes  them  much,  and  the  debt  is 
recorded  in  our  very  language.  The  leaves  of  plants 
named  the  "leaves"  of  books.  The  great  "folios" 
took  that  title  from  the  foliage ;  and  many  kindred 
terms  come  from  what  the  leaves  have  made.  The 
word  "  paper "  comes  from  the  old  papyrus  plant. 
Even  "  Bible  "  is  but  the  Greek  name  of  that  plant. 
The  term  "codex,"  given  to  precious  old  manuscripts, 
originally  meant  a  tree-trunk  or  stem.  Even  the 
word  "  book  "  is  derived  from  the  beech,  not  only  in 
our  own,  but  in  several  Teutonic  tongues.  So  the 
Latin  word  "liber"  which  has  named  books  in  so 
many  languages, — from  our  "library,"  to  the  Italian 
"  libra  "  and  "  libretto"  and  the  French  "  livre"- 
originally  meant,  rather,  the  bark  of  a  tree.  Such 
words  are  of  course  no  mere  fancy,  but  tell  of  the  real 
use  of  beech  and  bark  and  leaves  in  writing.  The 
ancient  Sibyl  wrote  her  revelations  on  leaves  to  be 
scattered  by  the  wind ;  and,  since  then,  many  Chris 
tian  Bibles  have  been  written  on  them.  So  is  Script 
ure  indebted  to  the  leaves. 

But  even  without  such  writing,  do  they  not  bring  a 
revelation  ?  Theocritus  sang  the  "  sweet  whispering  " 
of  the  pine ;  and,  long  before  him,  a  Greek  poet  told 


48         NEW   LEAVES   OF    SCRIPTURE 

how  "  the  plane-tree  whispers  to  the  elm  in  spring." 
Such  whisperings  were  also  thought  divine.  Pliny 
said  the  trees  were  the  earliest  dwellings  of  the  gods. 
Even  the  American  Mount  Holyoke  tells  of  the  old 
belief  in  holy  oaks.  The  Greeks  not  only  saw  each 
tree  inhabited  by  a  dryad,  but  thought  the  great  Zeus 
spoke  his  truest  oracles  through  the  sacred  oak  at 
Dodona  and  the  rustling  of  its  leaves.  Many  a  poet 
still  hears  in  them  a  revelation. 

Do  they  not  bring  even  a  written  one,  —  a  real 
Scripture  ?  They  are  a  tissue  finer  than  any  paper  or 
parchment,  and  inscribed  for  all  who  will  inspect  them. 
Pick  from  under  your  feet  the  finest  leaf  of  moss,  — 
so  small  as  to  be  covered  by  a  grain  of  wheat,  so  thin 
as  to  be  almost  transparent.  Put  it  under  a  lens,  and 
see  its  hundreds  of  cells,  as  beautiful  and  as  varied  as 
the  letters  of  any  alphabet.  Increase  the  power  of 
the  glass,  and  see  a  single  cell  dotted  with  its  bright 
array  of  separate  green  granules,  —  a  letter  not  only 
illuminated,  but  alive  and  full  of  meaning  to  one  who 
can  read  it.  Such  cells,  piled  by  the  million  in  a 
myriad  shapes,  compose  all  our  leaves,  from  the  grass- 
blade  up  to  the  wonders  of  a  tropical  forest.  They 
are  also  combined  to  provide  the  leaf  with  all  sorts  of 
aids,  even  with  countless  little  "  stomata  "  or  mouths, 
curiously  two-lipped  like  a  man's,  and  opening  and 


NEW    LEAVES    OF    SCRIPTURE         49 

shutting  in  the  changing  weather,  as  if  they  had  some 
thing  to  say.  Doubtless  they  do  whisper  truer  rev 
elations  than  the  Greeks  heard  in  the  rustling  oak  at 
Dodona.  Doubtless  oracles  diviner  than  the  Sibyl's 
are  still  written  on  all  the  leaves  scattered  by  the 
autumn  winds.  For  these,  too,  seem  divine,  —  pub 
lished  by  no  man,  but  only  by  the  Creator,  in 
annual  editions,  reissued  every  spring  from  originals 
which  are  older  than  Adam  and  which  make  all 
human  history  seem  in  comparison  but  a  morning 
paper.  We  may  not  yet  be  able  to  read  them  as  well 
as  Edwin  Markam's  poet  who 

"  .    .   .   knows  the  gospel  of  the  trees, 
And  whispered  message  of  the  seas  ; 
Finds  in  some  dead  leaf  dried  and  curled 
The  deeper  meaning  of  the  world  ' '  ; 

but  doubtless  each  leaf  has  as  deep  a  meaning  as  even 
Tennyson's  "flower  in  the  crannied  wall,"  and  the 
most  prosaic  man  may  read  a  little  of  it. 

What  is  the  leaf  ?  Chiefly  and  briefly,  it  is  an  organ 
to  gain  more  light  and  air  for  the  creation  of  food. 
That  creation  is  seen  nowhere  else  than  in  green 
plants.  Animals  only  appropriate  and  transform  food 
already  made.  A  large  class  of  plants  do  the  same,  — 
all  the  fungi  and  many  a  pale  parasite.  But  the  green 
plants,  and  only  they,  create  food  from  inorganic 


50         NEW    LEAVES   OF    SCRIPTURE 

matter,  —  thus  providing  not  only  for  themselves,  but 
for  all  other  life. 

To  do  this,  they  must  have  light  as  a  first  essential. 
We  see  them  everywhere  reaching  after  it,  —  from  the 
house-plant  turning  to  the  window,  and  the  potato- 
sprout  in  the  dark  cellar  stretching  toward  the  chink 
in  the  wall,  to  the  great  forest-trees  pushing  outward 
or  upward  to  the  light  and  thus  shaped  by  it,  and  the 
little  vine  in  their  shade  climbing  to  the  forest  top  to 
spread  its  branches  in  the  sun. 

The  lowest  division  of  green  plants,  the  algae,  have 
no  special  organs  for  receiving  light,  but  get  it  through 
their  general  surface,  —  though  often  becoming  flat 
and  leaflike  to  increase  that  surface.  But  the  higher 
plants  learn  to  increase  it  more  by  leaves,  which  they 
spread  to  catch  more  light  and  air,  as  a  boat  spreads 
sails  to  catch  more  breeze.  These  leaves  begin  very 
small  in  the  mosses,  but  become  large  in  ferns, —  and 
thenceforth,  through  most  of  the  higher  orders,  are 
the  chief  means  of  obtaining  light.  They  generally 
even  face  it,  except  in  climates  and  cases  where  the 
heat  would  be  hurtful.  Sometimes  they  even  turn 
the  whole  plant-top  with  them,  thus  causing  the  names 
"sun-flower"  and  "heliotrope"  and  the  legend  of 
Clytie  in  love  with  the  sun. 

But  what  is  done  by  this  light  which  the  leaves  so 


NEW    LEAVES   OF    SCRIPTURE         51 

seek  ?  First,  it  colors  those  minute  green  granules, 
such  as  we  saw  scattered  in  the  microscopic  cell  of 
the  moss-leaf.  It  does  this  in  the  cells,  not  only  of 
leaves,  but  of  all  green  surfaces.  All  vegetable  green 
is  made  only  by  the  light ;  and,  when  made,  it  dies 
out  in  the  dark,  as  in  bleaching  celery  or  buried  grass. 
It  is  all  made  in  the  same  way,  —  by  that  invisible 
point,  repeated  by  the  million,  until  it  paints  the  leaf, 
lawn,  prairie,  and  mountain-side,  in  varied  tints  that 
no  art  can  imitate.  Man  may  indeed  make  a  little  of 
something  which  he  calls  green,  out  of  arsenic  or  other 
poison,  often  bringing  more  anxiety  than  beauty ;  — 
but  the  light,  by  the  mere  repetition  of  that  invisible 
point,  makes  it  so  abundantly  as  to  clothe  the  con 
tinent  in  beauty,  —  and  not  merely  harmless,  but 
feeding  the  cattle  on  a  thousand  hills. 

That  point  feeds  all  other  life,  too ;  for  it  is  no 
sooner  made  than  it  begins  a  still  more  wonderful 
work.  It  is  a  busy  little  factory,  not  only  painted, 
but  driven,  by  the  light.  It  is  even  the  most  impor 
tant  factory  in  the  world,  —  making  that  starch  which 
is  the  foundation  of  all  food  and  growth.  Men  may 
claim  to  make  this  in  their  mills,  but  they  only 
collect  what  the  leaves  have  made.  The  original 
and  only  real  starch-factory  is  that  microscopic  green 
point. 


52         NEW    LEAVES   OF    SCRIPTURE 

Still  more  curious,  it  not  only  makes  this  rich  prod 
uct,  but  makes  it  from  two  poor  ones  that  are  often 
pernicious.  One  of  these  is  mere  worthless  water, 
pumped  from  the  wet  ground.  The  other  is  a  worse 
than  worthless  gas,  poisonous  to  breathe,  but  poured 
out  from  animal  lungs  and  all  fires,  and  absorbed  by 
leaves  from  the  air.  This  gas  and  water  are  both  hard 
to  decompose  by  our  chemistry  ;  but  that  little  green 
granule  does  it  easily  all  the  day.  Still  more  wonder 
ful,  —  having  decomposed  them,  it  creates  from  their 
elements  that  vital  product  which  no  human  chem 
istry  can.  And  this  starch  not  only  feeds  all  plants, 
and  is  stored  up  in  their  fruits  and  stems  and  roots  for 
animals,  but  is  the  basis  of  various  other  important 
products,  especially  of  the  cellulose  and  woody  fiber 
that  builds  the  forests. 

With  this  process  is  connected  the  no  less  vital  one 
of  refreshing  the  air.  Man's  factories  poison  the  air, 
but  these  purify  it.  They  not  only  take  away  and 
decompose  that  deadly  gas,  but  give  back  the  very 
element  for  breath.  The  New  Testament  author, 
telling  of  the  "tree  of  life"  in  the  New  Jerusalem, 
said  its  "leaves  are  for  the  healing  of  the  nations"  ; 
and  the  Old  Testament  text,  from  which  he  took  the 
thought,  said  more  clearly  that  they  are  "for  med 
icine."  So  are  our  leaves,  the  druggists  say.  But 


NEW   LEAVES    OF    SCRIPTURE         53 

they  are  better  than  medicinal,  —  not  merely  healing 
disease,  but  preventing  it  by  purifying  the  air. 

Nor  are  they  doing  this  now  only,  but  were  for 
ages  before  man.  That  poisonous  gas  was  then  too 
abundant  to  allow  man  to  live  at  all.  But,  through 
long  geologic  ages,  the  leaves  slowly  removed  and 
decomposed  it,  sent  back  its  oxygen  into  the  air  for 
breath,  and  stored  up  its  carbon  to  keep,  in  our  rich 
beds  of  coal. 

So  much  do  we  owe  to  that  microscopic  green  point. 
Ages  before  man  it  was  at  work  for  him,  providing 
both  air  and  coal.  It  still  works  on,  turning  his  burned 
coal  into  forests  again,  and  his  befouled  air  into  food. 
And  as  fast  as  he  consumes  the  forests  and  food,  it 
again  changes  their  gases  into  growing  trees  and 
grains  and  fruits  of  a  thousand  kinds,  —  still  purifying 
the  air  in  the  process,  and  turning  its  poison  into  both 
bread  of  life  and  breath  of  life.  Surely  these  are 
leaves,  not  only  of  Scripture,  but  of  a  Gospel. 

Or  if  Scripture  must  tell  of  marvels  and  miracles,  — 
do  not  these  leaves  ?  To  the  true  thought,  the  marvel 
is  no  less  because  following  laws  or  because  familiar. 
Emerson  said, "  the  foolish  man  wonders  at  the  unusual, 
but  the  wise  man  at  the  usual  "  ;  and  in  every  leaf  and 
grass-blade,  wisdom  sees  wonders  and  miracles  enough. 
Their  mystery  no  science  has  explained,  and  their 


54         NEW   LEAVES   OF    SCRIPTURE 

marvel  should  seem  all  the  greater  because  renewed 
every  summer.  Was  Aaron's  budding  rod,  in  the 
Biblical  story,  any  greater  miracle  than  the  rods  bud 
ding  by  the  million  in  the  spring  forest  and  from  the 
frozen  ground  ?  Were  the  withered  leaves  of  the 
blasted  fig-tree  any  better  miracle  than  the  leaves  of 
every  field,  unwithered  by  the  summer  drought,  and 
ever  working  to  bless  the  world  ?  Was  even  the 
multiplication  of  the  loaves,  or  that  "  barrel  of  meal " 
so  miraculously  increased  for  the  widow,  any  more 
miraculous  than  these  green  granules  still  multiplying 
loaves  for  all  the  world,  still  making  meal  in  every  leaf 
of  summer  ? 

Or  if  Scripture  must  teach  lessons,  do  not  the 
leaves  ?  Their  lesson  of  the  need  of  light  is  just 
what  all  good  teachers  and  preachers  proclaim  ;  and 
the  apostle  bids  men  abide  and  "walk  in  the  light." 
Light  always  stands  for  truth,  and  darkness  for  error 
and  ignorance.  Lack  of  light  dwarfs  and  deforms 
minds  as  well  as  plants.  Darkness  bleaches  souls  as 
well  as  celery  ;  and  though  it  may  give  them  a  tempt 
ing  tenderness,  it  keeps  them  weak.  It  even  makes 
them  unjust.  Many  of  the  worst  wrongs  in  history 
have  been  due  to  ignorance  alone,  and  would  have  been 
impossible  in  the  light  of  a  larger  knowledge  and 
thought.  Our  lower  life  may  fatten  in  the  dark,  like 


NEW   LEAVES   OF    SCRIPTURE         55 

fungi ;  but  a  broad  charity  and  justice  can  no  more 
grow  without  light  than  can  the  leaves.  Truth  is  the 
best  thing  in  the  world. 

Nor  need  we  dilute  and  adapt  truth  to  weak  souls 
so  timidly  as  is  often  done.  Some  of  course  want 
less  light  than  others,  just  as  some  plants  do.  But, 
like  plants,  they  keep  their  proper  place,  and  are  in  no 
more  danger  of  following  too  strong  a  light  than  forest 
ferns  are  of  spreading  into  the  sunny  fields.  Feeble 
souls,  that  might  be  harmed  by  philosophy,  never  feed 
on  it.  They  even  close,  to  exclude  too  strong  a  light, 
-just  as  the  animal  eye  does  by  contracting  its  iris. 
Souls  have  their  iris  of  prejudice,  which  is  self-adjust 
ing  and  contracts  in  a  moment  against  any  excessive 
illumination. 

This  self-adjusting  power  is  taught  in  the  leaves, 
too.  In  a  perilous  air,  their  stomata  shut,  like  animal 
eyes  and  human  minds.  The  whole  leaf  sometimes  folds 
and  shuts,  —  as  that  of  the  clover  against  the  even 
ing  chill,  or  that  of  the  sensitive-plant  against  a  shock. 
In  climates  and  species  where  the  sun's  heat  would  be 
too  severe,  leaves  often  take  a  vertical  position  so  as 
to  escape  the  noon-day  rays  ;  sometimes  even  point 
north  and  south  so  as  to  escape  them  better.  In 
many  ways  they  show  the  providence  in  Nature  and 
tell  us  to  trust  her. 


56         NEW    LEAVES   OF   SCRIPTURE 

Leaves  teach  also  the  right  philosophy  of  life. 
They  rebuke  that  false  radicalism  which  seeks  only  to 
outroot,  and  teach  the  truer  radicalism  which  keeps 
inrooted  and  uses  roots  rather  than  kills  them.  Soci 
ety,  like  a  tree,  has  grown  from  the  ground  of  the 
past.  Beneath  us  lies  a  deposit  of  old  opinions,  tra 
ditions,  literatures,  laws,  customs,  —  the  accumulated 
soil  of  the  centuries.  In  this,  society  is  rooted  ;  from 
this  it  draws  needful  subsistence  and  much  of  the 
"water  of  life."  For  us  to  cut  loose  from  the  past, 
in  order  to  advance,  is  much  as  if  the  gardener  should 
pull  up  his  plant  to  make  it  grow  faster. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  leaves  teach  us  to  use  the 
past  with  the  greatest  freedom.  They  do  not  take 
the  sand  and  gravel  of  the  soil,  but  only  the  fluid 
found  there ;  and  most  of  this  is  mere  water  freshly 
fallen  from  the  air.  No  more  are  we  to  absorb  from 
the  past  its  petrified  opinions  or  fossilized  legends,  but 
only  what  is  soluble  and  nutritious,  what  dissolves  and 
rises  in  our  own  thought  to  feed  us.  Even  what  we 
do  thus  take  is  of  no  value  until  brought  out  into 
the  light  and  transformed  into  life,  as  in  the  leaves. 
Though  so  dependent  on  the  soil,  their  work  is  in  the 
wind,  and  their  food  is  drawn  almost  entirely  from 
fallen  showers  and  floating  vapors.  The  great  tree  is 
not  a  child  of  earth,  but  chiefly  of  air,  light,  heaven. 


NEW   LEAVES   OF   SCRIPTURE         57 

So  is  man  ;  and  his  work  is  not  in  the  dark  soil  of  the 
past,  but  in  the  light  and  air  of  to-day. 

Our  best  work  is  indeed  just  like  that  of  the  leaves  : 
—  to  remove  from  the  social  atmosphere  the  poison 
ever  accumulating  from  the  breath  and  fires  of  human 
passions  ;  to  decompose  it  and  old  opinions  in  the 
light  of  thought  and  warmth  of  kindly  feelings ;  to 
recombine  the  elements  in  new  growth.  In  short, 
to  let  the  heavenly  rays  of  reason  and  love  work 
in  us  to  revitalize  the  air  and  build  up  the  "  tree 
of  life." 

The  leaves  teach  also  the  best  way  of  doing  this,  — 
patiently,  quietly,  by  the  slow  and  silent  processes,  of 
education.  Nothing  teaches  better  than  they  the 
truth  of  greatest  work  by  gentlest  methods.  Think 
how,  without  sound  of  pump  or  sight  of  piston,  there 
is  every  day  lifted  through  them,  higher  than  the 
house-tops,  a  flood  compared  with  which  that  sent  by 
the  noisy  water-works  of  all  our  cities  is  as  nothing. 
Think  how  gentle  is  the  light  that  paints  the  continent 
and  drives  those  little  factories  all  the  summer  without 
a  sound.  Yet  they  weave  more  wondrous  tissue  than 
any  loom,  to  carpet  the  prairies  and  drape  the  forests ; 
they  build  trees  taller  and  more  lasting  than  human 
temples  ;  they  fill  the  valleys  and  mountains  with 
timber  for  homes  and  human  arts;  they  have  even 


58         NEW    LEAVES   OF    SCRIPTURE 

stored  up  the  deep  beds  of  coal  to  drive  factories,  draw 
trains,  and  push  ships  across  the  seas. 

The  best  human  work  is  done  as  quietly.  Even  in 
mechanics,  the  gentlest  methods  are  most  powerful. 
Silent  heat  lengthens  the  iron  bar  better  than  any 
hammers.  Slow  hydraulic  pressure  does  work  quite 
impossible  by  quicker  methods.  The  immense  iron 
tubes  of  the  Britannia  bridge,  —  each  longer  than  the 
tallest  tree  and  large  enough  to  let  locomotives  through, 
—  were  yet  lifted  to  their  places,  higher  than  ship- 
masts,  by  the  pressure  of  a  column  of  water  no  thicker 
than  a  finger.  When  in  their  places,  it  was  found  that 
the  silent  sunshine  arched  and  lifted  those  ponderous 
spans,  every  day,  more  than  the  heaviest  railway-trains 
lowered  them  ;  just  as  the  same  sunshine  swells  the 
rocks  and  bends  Bunker  Hill  monument.  The  gentlest 
methods  .are  the  strongest.  The  very  builder  of  that 
bridge,  so  familiar  with  mighty  forces,  when  asked  what 
is  the  mightiest  one  on  earth,  replied,  "A  woman's 
eye." 

Not  only  in  the  physical,  but  in  the  social  and  moral 
field,  the  strongest  forces  are  of  the  same  kind,  — 
working  silently,  like  sunshine,  to  lift  and  build 
rather  than  break.  Loud  and  violent  ways  do  for 
destruction,  —  for  blowing  up  cities,  sinking  ships, 
killing  men,  and  bringing  disorder;  but  for  building 


NEW    LEAVES   OF    SCRIPTURE         59 

cities  or  civilization,  the  opposite  ways  are  needed. 
The  world  does  indeed  still  glorify  the  brutal  methods 
of  its  savage  days,  spending  far  more  for  wars  than 
for  schools  ;  and  even  professing  Christians,  while 
teaching  that  it  was  a  "  very  God  "  who  ordered  them 
to  love  their  enemies,  often  teach  that  it  is  better  to 
butcher  them  in  battles  or  in  bombardments.  But  we 
shall  some  time  learn  that  a  wiser  and  more  Christian 
lesson  is  this  of  gentle  methods,  taught  by  the  light 
and  the  leaves. 

Even  something  like  Christian  brotherhood  seems 
taught  by  them.  With  all  their  eagerness  for  the 
light,  the  leaves  of  the  same  plant  are  curiously  care 
ful  not  to  deprive  each  other  of  it,  —  being  so  arranged 
and  shaped,  often  so  narrowed  or  divided,  as  to  shade 
others  as  little  as  possible.  Even  rival  plants  are 
brotherly.  Their  competitions  are  in  the  method  of 
business  rather  than  of  battle,  and  much  more  humane 
than  many  in  human  history.  William  Watson  sings 
the  coming  day  when  warring  nations, 

«' .    .   .  wise  from  all  the  foolish  past, 
Shall  peradventure  hail  at  last 

The  advent  of  that  morn  divine 
When  nations  shall  as  forests  grow, 

Wherein  the  oak  hates  not  the  pine, 
Nor  beeches  wish  the  cedar  woe,  — 


60         NEW    LEAVES   OF    SCRIPTURE 

But  all  in  their  unlikeness  blend, 
Confederate  to  one  golden  end." 

Still  more  "  confederate  "  they  seem  when  trees  of 
many  kinds  not  only  interlace  their  arms  in  sisterly 
way  and  help  each  other  against  the  wind,  but  aid  the 
weaker  plants.  Horace  sang  the  elm's  friendliness  to 
vines,  — "  amicta  vitibus  ulmo"  Many  trees  not  only 
show  this,  but  hospitably  welcome  the  poor  mosses 
and  liverworts  at  their  base,  and  entertain  the  lichens 
on  their  bark.  The  lichens  themselves  are  now  found 
to  be  a  brotherly  combination  of  algae  and  fungi. 
There  are  many  such  cases  of  "  plant  partnerships." 
There  are  indeed  many  parasitic  and  thievish  plants, 
robbing  the  stores  of  others  ;  and  some  have  most 
cunning  devices  for  capturing  and  killing  insects  that 
prey  upon  them.  But  these  are  rare  exceptions,  and 
most  plants  are  all  innocence.  In  Stevenson's  fable, 
the  visitor  from  another  planet,  after  inspecting  our 
various  forms  of  life,  concluded  that  trees,  with  their 
calm  and  gentle  ways,  are  the  noblest  people  on  earth. 
When  we  think,  further,  how  plants  provide  for  all 
other  life,  they  seem  to  be  an  embodied  beneficence 
and  to  teach  quite  as  good  lessons  as  any  church. 

They  even  teach  that  lesson  of  unity  which  churches 
have  been  rather  slow  to  learn.  Some  religious  sects 
have  been  prone  to  think  themselves  quite  distinct 


NEW   LEAVES   OF   SCRIPTURE        61 

from  the  rest  of  the  human  race,  —  an  exceptional 
species  of  plant,  kept  apart  in  the  conservatory  of  a 
special  providence,  —  while  all  others  form  but  a  vile 
wilderness,  Satan's  swamp,  perhaps  growing  only  to 
feed  the  infernal  fires.  Such  beliefs  are  quite  corrected 
by  botany,  which  shows  the  kinship  and  unity  of  all 
vegetable  life.  The  leaves,  through  all  their  myriad 
sizes  and  shapes,  are  formed  of  the  same  cells,  and  are 
working  in  the  same  way.  The  varied  flowers,  with 
all  their  parts,  are  but  "metamorphosed  leaves."  All 
the  vegetable  species,  from  mosses  up  to  majestic 
pines,  —  from  the  sacred  cedars  of  Lebanon  and  the 
olive  trees  about  Jerusalem,  down  to  the  microscopic 
desmid  in  the  ditch,  —  have  yet  grown  from  the  same 
elements,  just  as  all  the  varied  religions  from  the  same 
sentiments.  All  are  subject  to  the  same  laws,  all 
fostered  by  the  same  light,  all  filled  with  the  same 
life.  Better  than  any  creed  in  the  world  do  plants 
proclaim  the  truth  of  unity  and  brotherhood. 

Do  they  not  proclaim  even  a  truer  theology,  —  a 
better  God?  Science  may  indeed  ignore  this  name; 
but  that  is  largely  a  matter  of  language.  The  poet, 
describing  the  beauties  of  October,  adds  : 

"  Some  of  us  call  it  Autumn, 
And  others  call  it  God." 


62         NEW   LEAVES   OF    SCRIPTURE 

How  much  better  a  God  is  taught  by  the  plants  than 
by  much  of  the  preaching !  Lowell  lamented  that  the 
old  Greeks,  with  their  "beautiful  beliefs," — such  as 
that  "which  gave  a  Hamadryad  to  each  tree," — had 
been  displaced  by  men  teaching  Satan's  "horn  and 
hoof  "  and  "the  witch's  broomstick,"  and 

"  Fearing  their  God  as  if  he  were  a  wolf 
That  snuffed  round  every  home  and  was  not  seen." 

But  better  than  Greek  Hamadryads,  or  than  nymphs 
of  any  faith,  is  the  Power  seen  in  every  tree  and 
making  the  whole  vegetable  world  so  beneficent 
that  Emerson  defined  even  weeds  as  plants  whose 
virtues  had  not  yet  been  found  out.  The  forests 
correct  our  faith.  A  far  better  God  is  proclaimed  in 
the  summer  foliage  than  in  the  pious  old  folios. 

Think  of  the  leaves  that  men  have  published,  repre 
senting  their  God  as  a  monster  who  saves  a  few 
favorite  children  and  sends  all  the  rest  to  eternal 
torture.  Contrast  such  leaves  with  these  published 
by  the  Creator  himself  every  spring,  to  bring  blessings 
impartially  to  all  creatures.  Seeing  how  they  work 
all  summer  to  sweeten  the  air  and  fill  the  earth  with 
food,  to  make  "grass  to  grow  for  cattle  and  herb  for 
the  service  of  man,"  and  to  build  the  trees  where  the 


NEW   LEAVES   OF    SCRIPTURE         63 

"  fowls  of  heaven  have  their  habitation  "  and  "  sing 
among  the  branches,"  we  feel  that  they  are  as  good 
"leaves  of  Scripture  "as  any  ever  written.  "Love- 
letters  from  God,"  a  poet  called  them ;  and  when,  one 
autumn  day,  a  falling  leaf  dropped  in  my  letter-box  at 
the  door,  I  fancied  that,  if  I  could  read  it  fully,  it 
would  be  a  richer  epistle  than  postman  ever  brought 
or  apostle  ever  penned. 

Nor  does  the  death  of  the  leaves  darken  their 
lesson.  A  noted  botanist  calls  their  fall,  not  a 
breaking-off,  but  a  "process  of  growing  off."  Their 
season's  work  is  done,  and  Nature  brings  a  growth 
that  gently  separates  them  from  the  tree.  If  they 
"  fade,"  it  is  often  into  new  glory,  as  we  have  seen  ;  — 
much  as  men  do  in  the  esteem  of  their  friends,  when 
they  die.  When  they  fall,  it  is  to  go  dancing  through 
the  streets  and  waltzing  with  the  wind,  as  if  rejoicing 
in  their  liberty,  like  children  released  from  school. 
Even  when  trodden  under  foot,  it  is  only  to  restore 
their  mineral  matter  to  earth  for  growth  again,  while 
their  real  life  lives  on  and  has  not  fallen  at  all.  It  is 
only  their  dried  skeletons  that  fall.  The  substances 
which  made  their  life  have  all  been  withdrawn  before 
they  drop,  and  are  securely  stored  away  in  stems  and 
roots  and  seeds,  to  survive  the  winter  and  rise  again 


64         NEW    LEAVES   OF    SCRIPTURE 

in  the  buds  and  fruits  of  another  year.      They  too 
proclaim,  "  O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?  " 

Thus  do  the  summer  leaves  reveal,  more  sweetly 
than  the  whisperings  of  Aristophanes'  plane-tree  or 
Theocritus'  pine,  lessons  of  life  and  love ;  and  even 
in  their  fall  and  decay  are  still  "leaves  of  Script 
ure." 


"THE    COSMIC   ROOTS   OF   LOVE" 


-THE    COSMIC    ROOTS   OF   LOVE" 

ONE  of  the  last  papers  published  by  John  Fiske 
is  his  Phi  Beta  Kappa  address  on  the  ethical 
aim  in  Nature.  It  is  entitled,  "  The  Cosmic 
Roots  of  Love  and  Self-sacrifice."  It  seems,  however, 
to  leave  these  roots  quite  short  of  cosmic.  It  locates 
them  in  the  prolonged  infancy  and  close  motherhood 
of  mammalian  life.  But,  surely,  they  reach  lower  than 
that.  The  hen  is  no  mammal,  and  her  infants  walk 
the  first  hour ;  yet  she  shows  so  much  "love  and  self- 
sacrifice  "  that  even  Jesus  took  her  to  illustrate  his 
own.  Poets  back  to  Euripides  have  praised  the  devo 
tion  of  birds  for  their  young.  Nor  is  it  limited  to 
their  young,  but  we  read  of  them  dying  of  grief  for 
mates ;  and  Darwin  tells  of  pelicans  and  crows,  old 
and  blind,  but  faithfully  fed  and  cared  for  by  their 
companions.  Here  seems  a  foregleam  of  the  benev 
olence  that  builds  our  hospitals  for  the  aged  and 
infirm.  Even  the  parental  devotion  in  every  bird's 
nest  shows  the  growth  of  love  already  begun. 

Below   birds    it    has    begun,   and    Romanes    says 
"  parental  affection  "  is  found  among  reptiles  and  fish. 


68   "THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE" 

Back  in  the  old  Jurassic  swamps  and  Devonian  seas 
there  was  some  virtue.  Even  below  vertebrates,  in 
the  insect  world,  there  was  something  like  it.  Bees 
sacrifice  themselves  for  their  community,  dying  for 
their  hive  as  patriots  for  their  country,  or  attacking 
another  as  devotedly  as  Christian  armies  sack  Chinese 
towns. 

So  the  ant  is  praised  by  even  the  Bible  as  an  example 
for  men  ;  and  not  only  "  sluggards,"  but  most  citizens, 
might  "consider  her  ways"  and  be  wiser.  Professor 
Everett  said,  "  In  the  ant-hill  there  is  a  civilization 
very  like  our  own," — and  in  some  respects  it  seems 
better.  An  ant  community  may  contain  more  mem 
bers  than  there  are  men  in  Louisville ;  yet  Lubbock 
says  they  never  quarrel,  but  are  all  "  laboring  with  the 
utmost  harmony  for  the  common  good."  They  may 
have  no  moral  sense,  but  they  do  their  duty  better 
than  many  a  man  who  boasts  of  his.  They  may  have 
little  sympathy;  but  Lubbock  says  there  are  "good 
Samaritans  among  them,"  helping  wounded  sisters 
with  something  like  "  humane  feelings,"  while  all  show 
extreme  devotion  to  the  larval  infants  that  are  not 
even  their  own.  When  we  think  further  of  their  vast 
numbers,  —  more  in  a  square  mile  than  there  are  men 
in  America,  —  all  and  ever  busy  in  work  which  Spencer 
calls  "  almost  wholly  altruistic,"  we  see  that  "  the 


"THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE"   69 

roots  of  self -sacrifice "  not  only  reach  far  below 
mammals,  but  pervade  a  vast  world  of  social  insects. 

Lower  still  this  social  and  altruistic  principle  may 
be  traced  down  the  animal  scale,  to  the  very  sponge, 
which  is  a  genuine  society,  made  of  many  individuals 
united  in  service  of  each  other  and  their  community. 
Such  societies  may  have  no  ethical  or  even  conscious 
life,  but  they  already  proclaim  the  ethical  principle  of 
mutual  service  for  the  common  good.  They  show  the 
"roots"  we  are  searching,  —  only  roots,  indeed,  and 
with  no  hint  of  the  rich  fruit  to  come,  but  already 
started  in  life  so  low  that  it  used  to  be  thought 
vegetable. 

Even  in  vegetable  life  they  have  started.  The 
plant,  too,  is  a  sort  of  society,  with  varied  members 
united  in  mutual  service  and  sacrifice.  Leaves  give 
their  lives  for  the  tree,  like  good  families  for  the  State. 
The  flower  is  a  family,  botanists  say,  with  even  the 
wedding  of  sexes  and  parental  sacrifice  for  the  off 
spring.  The  flower  may  not  be  conscious  of  its 
virtues,  —  and  we  often  wish  that  some  human  fam 
ilies  were,  in  this  respect,  more  like  it.  But  in  it  the 
ethical  principle  is  on  the  way  to  consciousness. 

It  is  on  the  way  far  below  the  flower.  Down  among 
the  molds  and  microscopic  algae,  we  see  two  cells  of 
different  sexes  giving  themselves  to  each  other  and 


70   "THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE" 

their  offspring  with  something  of  the  same  principle 
and  process  seen  in  the  bird's  nest  and  the  human 
home.  To  such  unions  even  so  unfanciful  a  scientist 
as  Haeckel  ascribed  the  origin  of  love,  tracing  its 
source  back  to  what  he  called  "  the  elective  affinity  of 
two  differing  cells."  Even  so  orthodox  a  writer  as 
Drummond,  using  the  same  term  as  Mr.  Fiske  and 
somewhat  before  him,  spoke  of  their  "  self-sacrifice," 
and  said,  "  Love  is  not  a  late  arrival,"  but  "  its  roots 
began  to  grow  with  the  first  cell  that  budded  on  this 
earth."  So  do  they  reach  to  the  lowest  foundations 
of  life. 

Do  they  not  reach  even  back  of  life  to  the  inorganic 
world  ?  The  same  principle  of  union  and  co-operation 
is  found  in  everything  there.  In  every  rock  and  crys 
tal  of  the  mountains  and  drop  of  the  sea,  molecules 
have  united  in  systems  ;  and  each  molecule  in  turn 
is  called  a  marriage  of  atoms.  Not  only  Haeckel's 
"affinity  of  differing  cells,"  but  all  chemical  affinity,  is 
at  least  prophetic  of  that  which  unites  us  in  societies 
and  families. 

And  is  not  the  earth  itself  member  of  a  society 
which  is  something  like  a  family  ?  Even  the  most 
prosaic  astronomers  call  the  planets  a  "sisterhood," 
which  have  all  sprung  from  the  solar  mass  as  a  common 
mother,  and  have  in  turn  given  birth  to  a  score  of 


satellite  daughters.  All  these  worlds  form  a  family ; 
and,  though  they  have  separated  so  far,  they  are  still 
held  together  by  a  sort  of  family  affection,  which  is 
none  the  less  real  because  named  gravitation.  Under 
its  rule,  each  daughter  world  not  only  bends  her 
onward  impulse  into  a  filial  orbit  around  her  mother, 
but  turns  from  her  course  to  greet  every  passing  sister 
planet.  Even  the  wayward  comet  sons  come  back 
from  their  wide  wanderings  to  be  welcomed  and 
warmed  again  at  the  family  hearth. 

A  foolish  fancy,  of  course,  but  yet  a  fact !  The 
very  gravitation  which  unites  the  solar  system  is 
another  of  these  mutual  attractions  which  we  have  been 
tracing.  Nor  is  it  limited  to  our  own,  but  is  seen  in 
many  a  system  of  double  or  triple  stars  moving  about 
each  other  or  around  their  common  center.  It  not 
only  moves  worlds,  but  gathered  and  globed  them  to 
begin  with,  astronomers  say  ;  and  in  the  spiral  streaks 
of  many  a  nebula  we  seem  to  see  the  movement  start 
ing,  and  matter  slowly  drawing  together  to  shine  in 
new  suns  and  systems. 

So  does  this  attraction  and  union,  in  one  phase  or 
another,  pervade  the  universe,  —  a  cosmic  principle. 
It  is  ever  attended  by  the  opposite  one  of  separation, 
but  is  the  more  creative  of  the  two.  It  blesses  every 
where,  from  the  gathering  and  warming  of  worlds  in 


72   "THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE" 

systems,  up  to  the  gathering  of  animals  in  societies 
and  of  men  in  families  warm  with  sympathy  and  love. 
In  it,  rather  than  in  the  mere  prolongation  of  infancy, 
would  I  see  the  "cosmic  roots  of  love," — reaching 
back  of  mammals  and  of  all  motherhood,  back  of 
Haeckel's  cells  and  oldest  suns,  running  through  the 
wreaths  of  the  nebula,  threading  every  atom,  thrilling 
through  the  infinite  ether,  already  alive  in  that  mys 
terious  gravitation  which,  like  the  spirit  of  God  in  the 
Biblical  story,  first  moved  on  the  face  of  the  abyss, 
and  said,  "  Let  there  be  light." 

I  fancy  there  may  yet  come  some  poet-philosopher 
who  will  commence  his  ethical  study,  not  with  Script 
ure,  not  even  with  human  souls  or  lowest  cells  or  solar 
systems,  —  but  back  of  them  all,  with  the  first  move 
ment  of  matter  toward  union.  He  will  read  in  the 
lines  of  the  gathering  nebula  a  heavenly  scripture 
already  revealing  the  law  of  love,  and  in  every  star  a 
text  in  prophecy  of  Christ.  He  will  simply  trace  this 
cosmic  principle  of  union  through  its  advancing  phases 
in  creation. 

It  is  ever  opposed  by  repulsion,  separation,  strife, 
but  is  ever  harmonizing  the  strife.  Just  as,  in  grav 
itation,  it  gathered  diffuse  matter  into  globes,  and  the 
separating  globes  in  systems ;  so  on  our  globe,  in  the 
finer  chemical  affinities,  it  combined  atoms  in  molecules, 


"THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE"   73 

and  these  in  compounds  ever  more  complex.  In  con 
densation  and  cohesion  it  brought  liquids  and  solids. 
In  crystallization  it  built  the  myriad  shapes  of  beauty 
in  the  rocks.  In  more  marvelous  vital  organization  it 
combined  compounds  in  cells,  and  these  again  in  the 
countless  forms  of  life. 

Among  these  individual  forms  came  that  cruel  com 
petition  and  strife  which  pessimists  make  so  much  of, 
and  which  has  indeed  given  to  Nature  a  tragic  aspect. 
But  in  melioration  of  the  strife  our  principle  took  a 
social  form,  uniting  individuals  in  societies  of  mutual 
help,  which  pessimists  forget.  This  social  principle 
has  everywhere  prevailed,  —  not  only  in  the  vast  insect 
world,  but  in  animals  of  all  sorts,  from  buffaloes  on 
the  plain  to  beavers  in  the  pond,  —  bringing  swarms, 
schools,  flocks,  herds,  and  myriads  of  minor  co-opera 
tions,  like  those  told  in  Kropotkin's  book.  He  holds 
that,  even  "as  a  factor  of  evolution,"  the  fraternal 
principle  of  mutual  aid  has  been  much  more  important 
than  "  mutual  strife,"  and  has  thus  largely  redeemed 
Nature  from  the  common  charge  of  cruelty. 

Most  of  these  animal  societies  seem  to  be  merely 
utilitarian,  with  little  real  sympathy.  But  this  comes 
with  the  higher  union  of  the  family.  The  family 
begins  low,  as  we  saw,  and  its  affection  is  long  fee 
ble.  Even  conjugal  love  is  at  first  fleeting.  Among 


74   "THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE" 

some  insects  the  bride  does  not  hesitate  to  slay  her 
husband  when  the  nuptials  are  over.  Maternal  love 
may  be  no  stronger.  Even  among  vertebrates,  eggs 
and  infants  are  widely  left  to  perish,  —  as  they  may 
well  be  when  there  are  so  many  of  them.  When  the 
progeny  of  a  single  herring  would  soon  fill  the  ocean 
solid,  maternal  care  would  hardly  be  a  virtue.  But, 
with  higher  organization  and  fewer  offspring,  that  care 
increases.  In  birds  it  becomes  proverbial;  and  the 
mother,  if  not  loving  her  neighbor  as  herself,  at  least 
loves  her  infants  as  herself,  and  so  seems  almost  to  have 
begun  to  be  a  Christian.  Her  love  is  very  limited, 
however,  and  lasts  only  a  month,  —  after  which  her 
moral  law  is  suspended  till  another  season. 

But  the  mammalian  structure  carries  that  union 
further,  —  unites  mother  and  infant  much  more  closely 
and  longer.  At  length,  the  delicate  human  body  and 
brain  so  prolong  the  helpless  infancy  that  the  union 
has  to  last  for  years,  and  thus  becomes  a  habit  to  last 
through  life.  The  family  becomes  permanent,  and 
its  affection  fixed.  Its  permanence  also  extends  the 
union,  —  holds  together  parents  and  children  and 
children's  children  in  a  widening  circle  of  kinsmen. 
So  we  reach  one  of  those  clans,  gens,  or  little  tribes, 
in  which  society  seems  everywhere  to  have  started. 
This  cosmic  principle  of  union,  working  from  atoms 


"THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE"   75 

upward,  has  at  length  unfolded  its  higher  meaning, 
and  brought,  not  merely  a  utilitarian  society  of  animals, 
but  a  human  brotherhood  inspired  with  sympathy. 

This  little  tribe  often  shows  that  brotherhood  perfect 
between  its  own  members,  however  cruel  to  others. 
Boyle  says  that  even  the  Dyaks,  so  famed  for  ferocity 
and  murders,  were  yet,  among  themselves,  "humane 
to  a  degree  that  might  well  shame  "  us.  Some  refuse 
to  believe  this  of  savages,  especially  of  heathen. 
But  why  ?  Why  think  affection  impossible  among 
barbarians,  when  it  abounds  among  birds  ?  Why 
think  self-sacrifice  impossible  among  the  heathen, 
when  it  is  the  law  of  every  ant-hill  ?  Why  think 
pagans  cannot  keep  the  ten  commandments,  when  the 
mere  moon  keeps  every  one  of  them,  except  that  of 
the  Sabbath  ?  Kindness  comes  by  nature,  and  even 
by  necessity,  for  the  tribe  cannot  hold  together  without 
it.  It  is  still  confined  to  the  tribe,  however,  and  per 
haps  is  fiercely  hostile  to  outsiders,  —  only  the  narrow 
harmony  of  a  hornet's  nest. 

But  our  principle  works  on  through  history  to 
extend  the  harmony.  It  unites  little  tribes  in  larger, 
and  these  in  larger  still,  until  a  nation  is  formed. 
The  nation  keeps  new  peace  within,  and  cultivates 
the  juster  ideals  seen  in  ancient  literature.  Plato 
wrote, "  May  I,  being  of  sound  mind,  do  to  others  as 


76   "THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE" 

I  would  that  they  should  do  to  me  "  ;  and  already  the 
sentiment  was  familiar  from  Athens  to  the  end  of 
Asia.  This  brotherhood,  however,  was  only  national. 
Even  the  comparatively  humane  Greeks  did  not  try  to 
be  so  to  foreigners  ;  and  Plato,  in  giving  the  Golden 
Rule,  did  not  mean  for  a  moment  that  it  was  to  be 
practised  toward  barbarians. 

But  the  principle  worked  on,  joining  nations  in 
larger  union  and  extending  the  humanity.  In  the 
West  this  extension  came  through  the  Roman  rule, 
uniting  peoples  from  the  British  Isles  to  the  Euphrates, 
and  giving  to  ethics  a  cosmopolitan  tone.  In  the 
century  before  Christ,  Cicero  and  the  Stoics  preached 
universal  brotherhood  ;  Varro,  in  giving  the  Golden 
Rule,  no  longer  left  it  local,  but  said  it  should  embrace 
all  the  nations  of  mankind.  In  the  time  of  the  apostles 
the  pagan  Lucan  predicted  that  the  world  would  soon 
cast  aside  its  weapons,  and  all  nations  learn  to  love. 
In  practice,  too,  there  was  for  two  centuries,  in  the 
"Pax  Romana"  such  a  world-peace  as  earth  never 
saw  before  or  since.  The  Romans,  however,  were  not 
the  people  to  perfect  that  union.  They  had  brought 
it  through  vast  wars,  and  still  kept  class  divisions  and 
cruel  wrongs  that  made  the  Stoics'  precepts  seem  a 
mockery. 

But  now  came  from  the  nation  of  Israel  a  move- 


"THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE"   77 

ment  to  further  that  brotherhood,  and,  still  more 
important,  to  identify  it  at  last  with  religion.  That 
nation  itself  well  illustrates  this  law  of  ethical  growth. 
It  had  started,  according  to  the  Biblical  story,  in  one 
of  those  primitive  families,  with  not  even  the  domestic 
virtues  yet  fully  established.  Jacob  robs  his  twin 
brother  and  deceives  his  dying  father,  and  is  incited 
to  this  by  his  mother  ;  and  his  sons,  the  fathers  of  the 
tribes  of  Israel,  seek  to  slay  their  best  brother  and 
finally  sell  him  into  slavery.  These  tribes,  too,  though 
fairly  united  within,  had  fought  each  other,  and  had  well 
nigh  exterminated  Benjamin.  But  they  had  at  length 
united  in  a  nation,  reached  a  larger  justice,  and  learned 
the  Decalogue.  The  justice,  however,  had  been  only 
national.  Even  eminent  saints  in  Israel  denied  the  Dec 
alogue  in  dealing  with  other  peoples.  They  burned  town 
after  town  even  in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  and  "  utterly 
destroyed  all  that  breathed."  Of  course,  we  need  not 
believe  it  was  really  so  bad  as  this  ;  and  the  Bible  often 
shows  these  annihilated  towns  and  tribes  reappear 
ing  right  afterward,  active  as  ever.  But  the  stories 
show  no  less  the  low  ideals  of  the  authors,  in  both 
morals  and  religion.  These  ideals,  however,  continued 
to  rise,  until  the  great  prophets  of  the  eighth  century 
B.C.  not  only  plead  passionately  for  brotherhood  within 
the  nation,  but  even  predicted  the  union  of  nations, 


78   "THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE" 

when  swords  should  be  beaten  into  ploughshares  and 
the  world  should  learn  war  no  more. 

But,  —  most  important  of  all,  —  this  brotherhood 
was  made  the  essence  of  religion.  It  was  taught  that 
the  Lord  cared  little  for  their  ceremonies  and  prayers, 
wanted  no  more  blood  of  animals  or  men,  but  only 
that  they  should  "do  justly  and  love  mercy."  This 
teaching,  though  of  course  unheeded,  continued  among 
the  best  Jews.  Rabbi  Hillel,  in  giving  the  Golden 
Rule,  called  it  "  the  substance  of  the  law  "  ;  and  Jesus 
called  it  both  "the  law  and  the  prophets."  Jesus' 
Beatitudes  are  all  only  ethical  and  do  not  hint  that 
religion  is  anything  more.  They  give  the  highest 
blessings  to  those  who  "  hunger  and  thirst  after  right 
eousness,"  to  "the  meek"  and  "the  merciful"  ;  and, 
if  God  is  mentioned,  it  is  "the  pure  in  heart"  who 
shall  see  him,  the  "  peace-makers  "  who  shall  be  called 
his  "  sons."  It  is  the  simple  religion  of  righteousness 
and  brotherhood.  Jesus  seems  to  have  cared  for  little 
else.  He  preached  "  mercy  and  not  sacrifice."  He 
ordered  men  to  leave  the  altar  until  they  were  recon 
ciled  to  others.  This  reconciliation  was  itself  the  best 
prayer :  "for  if  ye  forgive  others,  your  heavenly  Father 
will  forgive  you," —  and  he  will  not  otherwise.  For 
giveness  was  the  true  religion,  —  and  must  be  repeated 
"seventy  times  seven"  times.  This  was  also  taught 


"THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE"   79 

among  his  disciples,  one  of  whom  wrote  that  "  if  we 
love  one  another,  God  dwelleth  in  us,"  for  "  God  is 
love."  Love  was  itself  God  and  the  only  way  to  find 
him.  Saint  Jerome  tells  how  John,  when  an  old  man, 
kept  repeating,  "Love  one  another"; — and  how, 
when  asked  why  he  said  no  more,  he  replied  that  no 
more  was  needed.  So  did  early  Christianity  promise 
to  perfect  the  union  which  the  Roman  empire  had 
brought. 

But  the  promise  failed.  Between  barbarians  without 
and  corruption  within,  that  uniting  empire  went  to 
pieces.  Even  before  it  fell,  Christianity  fell  worse  ;  — 
fell  from  its  high  ideals  of  harmony  to  things  that 
divided.  It  separated  into  sects  quarreling  over 
theological  questions.  It  opposed  the  social  senti 
ments  with  ascetic  practices,  and  sought  sanctity  by 
fasts  and  bodily  penance  rather  than  by  brotherhood. 
Many  a  holy  hermit  abandoned  his  own  children  to 
save  his  soul,  and  a  nun  was  said  to  have  been  sent  to 
Purgatory  for  loving  her  mother  too  much.  Formal 
observances  were  again  exalted  until  they  seemed 
holier  than  innocence  itself.  Baptism,  which  Paul 
once  thanked  God  he  had  practised  so  little,  came  to 
be  thought  more  important  than  purity ;  and  ceremonies 
to  atone  for  a  crime  seemed  more  meritorious  than 
not  to  commit  it.  Such  opinions  prevailed  for  cent- 


8o   "THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE" 

uries,  and  Jesus'  religion  of  love  was  so  buried  that 
his  professing  followers  sometimes  sought  to  serve  him 
by  slaying  each  other. 

Yet,  all  this  time,  the  tendency  to  union  was  also 
active,  and  was  aided  much  by  Christianity.  What 
ever  the  quarrels  of  the  Church,  it  still  taught  broth 
erhood.  Amid  all  the  divisions  of  the  falling  empire 
and  of  the  feudal  system,  the  Christian  name  and 
organization  kept  alive  the  feeling  of  unity.  Even  the 
Crusades  helped  to  unite  Europe,  and  the  wars  which 
followed  them  were  partly  redeemed  by  gathering 
conquered  peoples  into  great  nations  again. 

But  the  union  has  been  furthered  more  by  the 
secular  forces  that  revived  with  the  renaissance.  The 
arts  undermined  intolerance.  Learning  linked  men 
of  even  different  religions  and  races  in  a  common 
cause  and  sympathy.  Advancing  science  softened 
bigotry ;  and  the  agnostic  spirit  began  to  show  the  folly 
of  quarreling  over  questions  about  which  neither  side 
knew  anything.  Increasing  commerce  joined  the 
nations  ever  more  closely,  and  economics  slowly 
learned  that  the  interests  of  each  were  the  interests 
of  all. 

The  harmony  of  nations  and  the  folly  of  their 
quarrels  was  also  taught  more  and  more  by  eminent 
men,  from  Sully  and  Grotius  onward.  Voltaire  wrote 


"THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE"   Si 

most  earnestly  against  wars.  Benjamin  Franklin  said 
there  never  had  been  and  never  would  be  a  good  one. 
Jeremy  Bentham  denounced  war  as  "mischief  on  the 
largest  scale."  Robert  Hall  condemned  it  as  "the 
temporary  repeal  of  all  the  principles  of  virtue." 
Carlyle  asked  whether  the  French  and  English  sol 
diers  who  "  blow  the  souls  out  of  one  another  "  have 
any  real  reason  for  it ;  and  he  answered  :  "  Busy  as 
the  devil  is,  not  the  slightest."  Long  before  General 
Sherman,  Channing  said  that  a  battlefield  is  a  vast 
"  exhibition  of  crime,"  and  that  "  a  more  fearful  hell 
in  any  region  of  the  universe  cannot  well  be  con 
ceived."  Auguste  Comte  closed  his  "  Positive  Phi 
losophy  "  with  congratulation  that  the  old  evil  was 
ending  ;  and  at  about  the  same  time  Emerson  wrote 
that "  war  is  on  its  last  legs  "  and  "  begins  to  look  like 
an  epidemic  insanity."  Charles  Sumner  called  it 
"international  lynch-law  "  with  works  "infinitely  evil 
and  accursed";  and  he  said  that  the  greatest  value 
of  the  Springfield  arsenal  was  that  it  had  inspired 
Longfellow's  poem  against  war.  Theodore  Parker 
wrote  :  "  Posterity  will  damn  into  deep  infamy  that 
government  which  allows  a  war  to  take  place  in  the 
middle  of  the  nineteenth  century."  Even  during  our 
Mexican  war,  Parker  denounced  it  as  "  mean  and 
infamous," — as  not  only  a  "great  boy  fighting  a 


82   "THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE" 

little  one,"  but  as  a  fight  where  "the  big  boy  is  in 
the  wrong,  and  tells  solemn  lies  to  make  his  side  seem 
right."  So  Lowell  opposed  that  war  of  his  own  coun 
try,  —  made  Hosea  Biglow  "  call  it  murder,"  and  made 
Parson  Wilbur  rebuke  it  in  behalf  of  a  higher  "  patriot 
ism  "  and  of  that  truer  country  which  is  not  territory, 
but  justice.  In  1848  and  1849,  great  Peace  Con 
gresses  for  international  arbitration  and  disarmament 
met  in  Brussels  and  Paris.  At  the  latter,  Victor 
Hugo  predicted  the  day  when  cannon  would  be  obso 
lete  and  seen  only  in  museums,  as  curiosities.  Even 
England,  during  a  whole  generation  of  peace,  had 
reached  the  "belief  that  wars  were  things  of  the 
past  "  ;  and  Buckle  soon  after  wrote  that  the  national 
taste  for  them  had  become  "  utterly  extinct." 

The  work  of  union  continued,  and  even  the  wars 
that  followed  were  sometimes  in  its  favor.  Our  own 
Civil  War  was  in  the  name  of  "the  Union."  Italy 
was  at  last  united  again.  The  great  German  empire 
was  organized  where  hundreds  of  petty  States  had 
once  opposed  each  other.  But  union  has  been  ad 
vanced  most  by  the  peaceful  processes  of  industry, 
trade,  travel,  intercourse  of  every  kind.  Victor  Hugo 
contrasted  the  great  Industrial  Exposition  at  Paris, 
where  the  nations  had  come  together  to  learn  good 
from  each  other,  with  "  that  terrible  international 


"THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE"   83 

exposition  called  a  battlefield."  Even  the  electric 
flashes  through  the  Atlantic  cable  moved  Whittier 
to  sing, — 

"Weave  onf  swift  shuttle  of  the  Lord, 

Beneath  the  sea  so  far, 
The  bridal-robe  of  earth's  accord, 
The  funeral-shroud  of  war." 

Every  peaceable  ship  is  a  fuller  shuttle  for  that  shroud ; 
every  railway-train,  with  its  merchandise  and  mail, 
adds  its  thread  to  that  bridal-robe.  Through  these 
secular  agencies,  human  sympathy  has  already  widened 
until  men  give  their  tears  and  treasure  for  suffering 
heathen  around  the  earth  whom  once  they  would  have 
thought  it  sacred  duty  to  slay.  The  very  laws  of  the 
world  are  working  for  the  true  Christianity  and  the 
final  union  of  mankind. 

Not,  indeed,  that  we  are  near  it  yet.  The  nations 
still  try  to  out-trick  each  other  in  trade.  In  the  most 
"  Christian  "  nations,  the  citizens  sometimes  do ;  and 
possessions  are  not  shared  with  perfect  brotherhood 
even  in  the  Church.  No  longer  is  Ananias  struck 
dead  for  keeping  back  part  of  his  property,  but  he 
and  Sapphira  sit  safely  in  their  pew,  with  no  question 
about  their  land.  No  longer  is  Dives  sent  to  "hell" 
on  account  of  his  wealth,  but  has  become  a  deacon, 
and  the  preacher  has  found  a  way  to  get  the  camel 


84   "THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE" 

through  the  needle's  eye.  Nor  is  Lazarus  as  peaceful 
as  he  used  to  be.  He  is  ready  to  dynamite,  not 
Dives  only,  but  every  Lazarus  who  will  not  join  his 
strike  to  cut  off  the  country's  needed  coal  or  beef. 

For  the  spirit  of  violence  still  survives  to  rend 
society.  It  inspires  not  only  the  poor  and  ignorant, 
but  their  leaders  and  rulers,  and  sometimes  takes  pos 
session  of  a  nation.  That  long  dream  of  peace  to 
which  we  have  referred  was  broken  by  a  most  destruc 
tive  series  of  wars.  Those  of  the  ten  years  ending  in 
1871  are  said  by  Mulhall  to  have  cost  nearly  a  million 
and  a  half  of  lives  and  nearly  six  billions  of  dollars. 
Since  then,  the  armaments  in  Europe  have  much 
further  increased.  A  standard  new  History  tells  us 
that  the  "  civilized  Christian  nations  "  now  occupy 
ing  the  old  Roman  territory,  though  no  longer  in 
danger  from  outside  barbarians,  yet  keep  "under 
arms  ten  or  twelve  times  the  forces  "  of  the  pagan 
emperors.  Military  expenditures  are  vastly  greater 
than  any  other.  Even  in  our  own  country,  in  1 899, 
the  Naval  and  War  departments  and  pensions  con 
sumed  nearly  three-fourths  of  the  entire  expenditures 
of  the  National  Government.  President  Eliot  recently 
reminded  us  that  the  sum  granted  to  our  great  Agri 
cultural  Department  for  a  year  was  "about  the  cost  of 
one  day  of  the  war  with  Spain";  while  the  annual 


"THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE"   85 

amount  given  to  the  beneficent  work  of  fish-culture 
was  less  than  that  spent  in  maintaining  one  battleship. 
Fifty  years  ago,  Charles  Sumner  said  :  "  Every  ship 
of  war  that  floats  costs  more  than  a  well-endowed 
college ;  every  sloop  of  war,  more  than  the  largest 
library  in  our  country."  To-day,  battleships  are  far 
more  costly  and  numerous,  —  and  eminent  Americans 
who  profess  much  zeal  for  Christ  want  to  increase 
them. 

They  want  to  use  them,  too ;  and  even  preachers 
are  not  always  opposed  to  this.  General  Francis  A. 
Walker  wrote,  in  1869,  that  in  five  years'  pretty  con 
stant  attendance  at  church,  and  in  listening  to  sermons 
from  fifty  different  pulpits,  he  had  "  not  heard  a  single 
discourse  which  was  devoted  to  the  primitive  Christian 
idea  of  peace,  or  which  contained  a  perceptible  strain 
of  argument  or  appeal  for  international  good  will."  A 
few  years  ago  we  kept  our  Christmas  season  of  "  peace 
on  earth  "  by  a  clamor  for  a  mighty  war  with  England 
about  a  Venezuelan  boundary.  Our  people  and  press 
had  just  been  crying  out  against  the  horror  of  a  pro 
posed  pugilistic  fight  between  two  fools  in  Texas,  but 
now  became  eager  to  send  into  the  ring  half  a  million 
Christians  to  engage  in  battles  beside  which  prize-fights 
would  be  bland  and  benevolent.  Some  even  argued 
that  our  national  character  would  be  ennobled  by  a 


86   "THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE" 

war,  and  our  moral  tone  improved  by  bombarding  a 
few  towns  and  butchering  their  people.  The  excite 
ment  passed,  and  how  that  boundary  question  was 
settled  few  now  know  or  care.  But  we  have  since 
tried  that  method  of  ethical  training,  though  on  a 
much  smaller  and  safer  scale.  The  ideals  of  the 
battlefield  and  of  the  "water-cure  "  have  spread  among 
the  people,  —  yet  without  the  predicted  moral  improve 
ment.  Indeed,  violence  seems  to  have  become  un 
usually  popular,  strikers  club  and  kill  other  workmen 
with  medieval  ardor,  and  now  and  then  a  community 
gathers  with  the  greatest  delight  to  watch  the  writhings 
of  a  Negro  burning  to  death.  In  pessimistic  moments, 
one  sometimes  feels  that  our  civilization  is  little  more 
than  a  film,  beneath  which  the  old  savagery  is  still 
seething. 

These  evils,  however,  are  exceptional  and  we  must 
not  make  too  much  of  them.  A  little  bad  gets  all 
attention,  while  the  great  current  of  good  goes  on 
unheeded,  just  because  it  is  so  great  and  common. 
The  bad  may  even  be  a  sign  of  progress ;  and  part 
of  the  violence  to-day  is  a  passionate  outcry  against 
wrongs  that  have  long  been  allowed  and  that  must  be 
ended.  But  amid  the  violence,  peaceful  methods  are 
advancing,  and  arbitration  is  more  and  more  settling 
labor-troubles  and  preventing  wars.  Even  the  wars 


"THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE"   87 

that  do  come  are  no  longer  between  the  foremost 
nations,  but  have  mostly  sunk  into  expeditions  of  some 
powerful  people  to  conquer  some  feeble  one.  Even 
these  inglorious  conquests  have  become  so  difficult  and 
expensive  that  they  will  not  often  be  attempted ; 
while  real  war  between  two  great  powers  would  be  so 
vastly  more  so  that  M.  Bloch  pronounced  it  already 
impossible.  Certainly  war  seems  destined  to  die  at 
length  by  its  own  growth,  to  kill  itself  by  its  costli 
ness.  Even  now,  two  equal  nations  could  not  long 
continue  it  without  the  bankruptcy  of  both. 

So  do  the  laws  of  progress  work  for  peace.  A 
wise  man,  when  challenged,  replied  that  any  fool  can 
propose  a  duel,  but  it  takes  two  fools  to  fight.  The 
nations  will  yet  learn  this.  Already  they  are  question 
ing  the  wisdom  of  wasting  most  of  their  wealth  in 
endless  preparation  for  wars  which  can  be  avoided 
and  which  cannot  come  without  mutual  ruin.  Already 
they  see  a  fallacy  in  the  system  which  spends  millions 
on  a  battleship  that  soon  becomes  useless  by  the 
invention  of  a  better  one ;  and  which  is  forever  improv 
ing  walls  to  resist  cannon,  and  then  improving  cannon 
to  destroy  the  walls.  They  begin  to  see  the  folly  of 
fortifying  boundaries  at  infinite  expense,  when  that 
long  one  between  us  and  British  America  has  been 
safe  for  nearly  a  century,  without  walls  or  warship, 


88   "THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE" 

by  mere  mutual  agreement.  They  see  something 
worse  than  folly  in  the  system  which  uses  our  noble 
youth  like  Falstaffs  ragamuffins,  —  as  "  food  for 
powder"  and  "to  fill  a  pit,"-  — and  sometimes  to  ful 
fill  viler  purposes.  For  the  moral  fallacy,  too,  is  more 
and  more  seen.  Why  condemn  brutality  and  crime 
at  home,  and  then  cultivate  them  abroad  ?  Why  hang 
for  killing  one  man,  and  honor  for  killing  a  hundred  ? 
Why  imprison  a  starving  woman  for  stealing  a  loaf, — 
and  then  praise  rulers  or  soldiers  for  looting  cities  and 
stealing  a  whole  country  ?  Shall  justice  be  abolished 
by  a  national  boundary,  and  the  moral  law  stop  at  the 
State  line  ? 

Emerson  once  said,  "The  arch-abolitionist,  older 
than  John  Brown  and  older  than  the  Shenandoah 
Mountains,  is  Love,  whose  other  name  is  Justice, 
which  was  before  Alfred,  before  Lycurgus,  before 
slavery,  and  will  be  after  it."  That  same  Love  and 
Justice,  older  than  battle-ships  or  the  brutality  that 
wants  them,  is  still  here,  —  was  alive  before  wars 
began,  and  will  be  after  they  are  ended. 

Doubtless  this  principle  of  union  will  work  on  until 
it  links  all  nations  by  just  laws,  and  settles  their 
quarrels  by  peaceful  courts.  It  will  also  unite  all 
classes  in  them.  It  will  not,  however,  cement  society 
in  any  spiritless  communism  like  an  archaic  sponge,  or 


"THE  COSMIC  ROOTS  OF  LOVE"   89 

bind  men  in  any  tyrannic  labor-union  which  denies 
liberty  to  its  members.  For  individualism  also  has 
been  an  aim  in  Nature,  —  from  rushing  worlds  to 
roaming  bees  and  soaring  birds  and  free  souls.  The 
perfect  system  will  combine  fraternity  with  freedom, 

— "  liberty  and  union,  one  and  inseparable,  now  and 
forever." 

This  principle  will  perfect  religion  also.  So  ancient 
prophets  and  apostles  taught.  So  the  best  modern 
ones  have  taught.  Dr.  Putnam  said  the  one  thing  he 
worked  for  was  "  the  sense  of  universal  unity  and 
brotherhood."  Dr.  Channing  not  only  made  this  his 
chief  aim,  but  saw  it  as  the  substance  of  religion,  and 
said:  "The  love  of  God  is  but  another  name  for 
the  love  of  essential  benevolence  and  justice."  So 
Emerson  declared  this  sentiment  not  only  "the 
essence  of  all  religion,"  but  the  essence  of  Deity  : 

— "If  a  man  is  at  heart  just,  then  in  so  far  is  he 
God ;  the  immortality  of  God,  the  majesty  of  God, 
do  enter  into  that  man  with  justice."  These 
words  seemed  profane,  but  they  are  almost  the 
same  which  the  apostle  wrote  :  "  If  we  love  one 
another,  God  dwelleth  in  us,"  for  "God  is  love." 
Some  pious  people  slur  love  as  "  not  religion,"  but 
"  only  ethics."  Only  ethics!  Only  love;  —  that  is, 
according  to  the  apostle,  only  God!  But  this  is 


90      "THE   COSMIC    ROOTS    OF    LOVE" 

exactly  what  pious  people  were  seeking.    The  "  cosmic 
roots  of  love  "  are  also  those  of  religion. 

Such  is  the  sweep  of  this  principle  of  union.  It  is 
indeed  a  "  cosmic  "  principle,  working  from  the  nebula 
to  now,  —  from  the  primal  atoms  to  the  perfect  civil 
ization  and  religion.  The  great  Kant  adored  two 
wonders,  —  the  stars  above  and  the  moral  law  within. 
But  the  two  wonders  are  one,  and  all  the  more 
wonderful  because  one.  The  moral  law  within  is 
the  higher  music  of  the  same  law  which  "the  morn 
ing  stars  sang  together"  and  have  been  singing  ever 
since.  It  is  sung  ever  more  clearly  through  creation, 
—  from  solar  systems  up  to  human  society,  from 
nebular  mist  up  to  minds  that  outshine  the  stars,  and 
to  souls  and  sentiments  that  hope  to  outlast  the  stars. 
It  has  brought  love.  Rather,  it  is  love,  and  has  been 
love  from  the  first.  Its  lesson  is  to  work  for  love 
now,  and  to  trust  the  Love  eternal. 


AN    OLD    PARABLE    EXTENDED 


AN    OLD    PARABLE    EXTENDED 

JESUS'  longest  parable,  repeated  also  in  three 
forms,  is  that  of  "the  sower."  He  rightly  gave 
the  subject  such  prominence,  for  sowing  is  a 
work,  not  only  of  half  the  human  race,  but  of  the 
whole  plant-world,  and  of  a  large  part  of  creation.  It 
is  widely,  though  unwittingly,  carried  on  by  beasts, 
birds,  insects,  even  by  winds  and  waters,  and  seems 
the  chief  aim  of  the  vegetable  world.  To  produce 
seed  is  the  end  of  flowers,  leaves,  stems,  roots,  of  the 
entire  plant.  Other  organs  may  be  dwarfed  and 
mostly  disappear,  other  functions  may  largely  fail,  — 
but  the  seed-making  is  not  forgotten.  I  was  vividly 
impressed  by  this,  one  August  day,  while  climbing  the 
great  Gray's  Peak  in  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Little 
by  little,  in  the  ascent,  the  gnarled  old  pines  and 
spruces  shortened  their  trunks  until  no  taller  than  a 
man,  —  but  they  still  produced  their  cones  as  below. 
Little  by  little  the  willows  shrank,  until  no  longer 
than  a  ringer,  —  but  they  went  to  seed  all  the  same. 
Above  the  timber-line,  the  summer  herbs  more  and 
more  contracted  their  stems  and  leaves,  —  but  only  to 


94         AN    OLD   PARABLE   EXTENDED 

blossom  more  and  brighter.  Higher  still,  a  thousand 
feet  above  the  lingering  snow-banks,  starved  beds,  with 
no  more  foliage  than  the  finest  moss,  were  yet  densely 
carpeted  with  flowers  of  white  or  pink,  and  were  some 
times  bluer  than  the  sky  above  with  forget-me-nots 
which  had  forgotten  nearly  everything  except  to  pre 
pare  their  seed.  Even  on  the  wintry  point  of  the 
peak,  in  the  crevices  of  the  storm-swept  rocks, 
stunted  grass  and  chickweed  were  still  blossoming 
and  bearing  their  fruit ;  while  on  the  rocks,  crowded 
lichens,  without  any  blossoms,  spread  their  dainty 
cups  scattering  spores  by  the  million.  So  notable  in 
Nature  is  the  production  of  seeds. 

Hardly  less  so  is  their  protection  when  produced. 
They  are  guarded  by  tough  pods,  prickly  burrs,  bitter 
rinds,  to  keep  them  from  being  eaten  by  animals,  — 
and  by  hard  coats  to  save  them  when  eaten.  Some 
plants  have  protective  movements  so  curious  as  to 
make  them  seem  almost  endowed  with  mind.  Watch 
a  head  of  common  white  clover,  for  instance,  and  see 
how  its  little  florets,  as  fast  as  fertilized,  turn  bottom 
upward,  so  that  in  a  shower  each  seed  is  covered  by 
its  calyx  as  by  an  umbrella.  Notice  the  familiar 
dandelions,  first  held  up  to  gain  the  light  and  insects, 
but  then  drawn  snugly  to  the  ground  for  safety  while 
their  seed  is  ripening.  Or  see  the  eel-grass  and  water- 


AN   OLD    PARABLE   EXTENDED         95 

lilies  blossoming  at  the  surface  of  the  lake,  —  but 
then  coiling  up  their  long  stems,  as  a  sailor  does  his 
rope,  and  drawing  the  seed-cases  to  the  bottom.  So 
curious  are  the  devices  to  protect  seed. 

Still  more  so  are  those  for  sowing  it  widely.  Many 
plants,  by  cunning  springs,  throw  their  seeds,  like  a 
catapult,  sometimes  with  much  force.  Countless 
species  clothe  them  with  barbs  and  hooks,  to  fasten 
upon  roving  animals  and  be  scattered  far ;  —  or  with 
pulpy  fruit  to  bribe  the  birds  to  eat  and  bear  them 
further.  Many  plants  dry  into  bushy  and  rounded 
forms,  to  be  caught  by  the  autumn  winds  and  sent 
rolling  across  the  prairies,  like  a  patent  planter,  sowing 
their  seeds  as  they  go.  Much  more  widely  are  seeds 
scattered  by  water,  —  being  built  more  tightly  than  a 
boat,  and  safely  floated  the  whole  length  of  a  river,  or 
even  across  the  ocean.  Still  more  curious  is  their 
wide  sowing  in  the  wind  and  by  air-ships  and  sails  of 
many  forms.  That  dandelion  not  only  draws  down 
the  seed-head  to  ripen  safely,  —  but,  when  ripened, 
erects  it  again,  even  lengthens  the  stem  to  lift  it  still 
higher  ;  —  then  unfolds  it  into  a  plumy  sphere,  where 
each  of  the  hundred  florets  has  spread  its  calyx  into 
a  perfect  parachute,  and  stands  waiting  for  the  wind 
to  carry  its  single  seed  into  the  next  county.  Or  see 
the  thistle-head,  not  only  guarded  with  serried  spears 


96    AN  OLD  PARABLE  EXTENDED 

to  defend  it  till  ripe,  but  then  opening,  unfurling  its 
sepals  into  silken  sails,  launching  its  fairy,  fruit-laden 
fleet  into  the  heavens,  —  thus  making  the  wind  sow 
one  seed  in  Michigan  and  its  neighbor  in  Maine.  We 
boast  of  our  aeronautic  art ;  but,  ages  before  Mont- 
golfier  or  even  man,  Nature  had  perfected  it,  and 
applied  it  to  agriculture,  —  had  patented  all  sorts  of 
air-ships  among  her  farming-implements,  and  was 
using  parachutes  not  only  to  scatter  seeds  broadcast 
over  a  continent,  but  even  to  plant  them  right  end 
downward. 

Nor  should  we  forget  the  finer  spores  which  in  the 
lower  vegetable  world  serve  the  same  end  as  seeds, 
and  even  in  the  higher  are  essential  for  producing 
them.  These  are  sown  from  field  to  field  and  from 
flower  to  flower  by  bees,  butterflies,  and  various 
insects ;  and  the  flower  itself  is  often  cunningly  shaped 
to  get  them  sown  aright.  They  are  sown  by  the 
breeze,  and  floated  by  their  own  fineness.  They  drop 
from  the  fern-fronds  as  dust.  They  rise  from  the 
puff-ball  by  the  million,  as  mere  smoke.  They  fly 
from  molds  and  mildews  and  minuter  plants,  often  in 
finer  form  than  the  microscope  can  find.  They  are 
carried  wherever  air  goes,  —  and  hardly  the  wit  of 
man  can  shut  them  out.  ^ 

Through  this  sowing  of  spores  and  seeds  is  wrought 


AN  OLD  PARABLE  EXTENDED    97 

the  eternal  miracle  of  the  perpetuation  of  life.  The 
summer  herbs  fail,  their  leaves  fall,  the  stems  die,  the 
very  roots  rot  in  the  ground,  —  and  the  life  seems 
gone  forever.  Yet,  wrapped  in  these  wonderful  seeds, 
it  survives  the  decay  ;  and,  after  freezing  for  months 
in  the  soil,  or  flying  about  in  the  winter  winds  and 
snows,  it  unfolds  again,  and  into  wider  life  than  before. 
As  in  the  familiar  lines  :  — 

"  '  You  think  I  am  dead,' 

A  soft  voice  said, 
'  Because  not  a  stem  or  root  I  own  ? 

I  never  have  died, 

But  close  I  hide 

In  a  plumy  seed  that  the  wind  hath  sown. 
Patient  I  wait  through  the  long  winter  hours  ; 

You  will  see  me  again,  — 

I  shall  laugh  at  you  then, 
Out  of  the  eyes  of  a  hundred  flowers.'  " 

Nor  do  seeds  survive  merely  one  winter,  but  many. 
Dried  for  years,  they  grow  again.  Drowned,  they 
revive ;  —  and  the  mud  dredged  from  the  lake-bottom 
is  soon  green  from  their  growth.  Even  behind  the 
fierce  fire  of  forest  or  prairie,  they  are  soon  sprouting, 
as  if  the  very  flames  had  left  some  safe  in  their  grave 
below.  They  survive  eating,  acids,  perhaps  ages. 
Dr.  Lindley,  pointing  to  some  raspberry-bushes  in  his 


98         AN    OLD    PARABLE   EXTENDED 

garden,  said  they  had  grown  from  seeds  found  in  the 
stomach  of  a  body  buried  centuries  before  with  coins 
of  the  emperor  Hadrian. 

These  physical  facts  are  symbolic  of  spiritual  laws. 
In  the  fields  of  thought  and  feeling,  seeds  are  contin 
ually  sown,  in  some  form.  One  form  is  that  of  words. 
Even  much  more  widely  than  seeds,  these  are  sown 
and  grow.  "  Winged  words,"  we  say  ;  —  and  so  they 
are.  A  spoken  word  flies  on  wings  lighter  than  bird's 
or  thistle-down,  on  invisible  waves  of  air  swifter  than 
any  wind ;  and  not  merely  in  one  direction,  but  in  all, 
so  that  it  may  be  planted  in  a  thousand  ears  at  once. 
Written  words  even  cross  oceans  and  ages,  and  may 
be  sown  a  thousand  times  over,  with  no  loss  of  their 
vitality.  Even  though  seeming  dead,  they  keep  their 
life.  The  spoken  word  of  a  friend,  long  forgotten, 
mysteriously  starts  up  in  memory,  grows  into  new 
deeds,  and  gives  direction  to  a  whole  day.  Written 
words  older  than  Hadrian's  coins  are  still  growing 
around  us  to  richer  result  than  those  berry-bushes. 
Jesus'  sayings  are  more  vital  seeds  than  botany  knows. 
Sentences  of  Isaiah  and  ./Eschylus  are  yet  sown  and 
bearing  fruit  every  season.  The  stories  of  wheat 
found  in  the  wrappings  of  Egyptian  mummies,  and 
made  to  grow,  may  all  be  fictions ;  but  good  words 


AN  OLD  PARABLE  EXTENDED    99 

inscribed  in  those  tombs  are  still  full  of  life,  and  stir 
souls  to-day.  Indeed,  wise  words  cannot  die.  They 
may  be  buried  and  lost  forever,  —  as  most  seeds  are  ; 
but  if  found,  they  are  always  alive.  They  are  more 
vital  than  any  seed,  —  living  longer,  borne  farther, 
having  power  to  be  planted  in  a  myriad  places  at  once 
and  a  million  times  over,  but  yet  to  remain  as  full  of 
life  as  at  first. 

Another  form  of  sowing  is  by  deeds.;  —  and  innum 
erable  are  those  which  have  not  only  shaped  history 
with  unending  influence,  but  still  inspire  mankind. 
Even  the  most  inconspicuous  acts  send  on  their  life ; 
—  like  those  invisible  spores  that  rise  from  lowliest 
plants  to  float  everywhere  and  grow.  Even  without 
acts  or  words,  the  silent  thoughts,  feelings,  character, 
still  speak  ;  —  as  in  that  woman  who  "  wrought  works 
that  cannot  die  "  : 

"  It  was  not  anything  she  said, 

It  was  not  anything  she  did  ;  — 
It  was  the  movement  of  her  head, 

The  lifting  of  her  lid  ; 
Her  little  motions  when  she  spoke, 

The  presence  of  an  upright  soul, 
The  living  light  that  from  her  broke,  — 

It  was  the  perfect  whole. 
And  as  she  trod  her  path  aright, 

Power  from  her  very  garments  stole  ; 


ioo   AN  OLD  PARABLE  EXTENDED 

For  such  is  the  mysterious  might 
God  grants  the  upright  soul." 

So  in  many  ways  is  truth  sown  in  the  world,  as 
seed  by  the  winds.  It  is  sown  even  by  those  who 
have  no  heed  for  it,  —  like  those  barbed  fruits  carried 
by  the  fur  of  animals.  It  is  sown  even  by  those  who 
seem  to  have  destroyed  it ;  —  like  those  berry-seeds 
eaten  by  birds,  but  only  to  be  planted  more  widely. 
Often  in  history  a  truth  has  thus  owed  more  to  its 
foes  than  to  its  friends.  It  grows  by  opposition,  and 
even  survives  the  flames  of  martyrdom  better  than 
seeds  do  the  prairie  fires.  It  cannot  be  destroyed. 
Much  of  it  may  fall  on  unfit  places,  and  fail ;  but 
whenever  finding  a  soul  ready  for  it,  it  grows. 
Thus  the  losses  in  one  place  are  met  by  gains  in 
another,  and  the  moral  and  religious  life  of  the  world 
is  preserved  undiminished. 

That  life  is  not  only  thus  preserved,  but  improved  ;— 
and  this  is  a  further  step  in  our  parable.  In  the  plant- 
world  few  of  the  innumerable  seeds  find  room  to 
thrive.  Only  the  fittest  can  grow  to  ripeness  and 
reproduction.  Thus  Nature  is  constantly  weeding  out 
the  weaker,  selecting  the  more  suitable,  —  aiding  ad 
vance.  Through  this  process,  patiently  continued 
through  those  seasons  of  the  Lord  whose  days  are  a 


AN   OLD    PARABLE   EXTENDED        101 

thousand  years,  seems  to  have  come  much  of  the 
vegetable  progress,  from  algae  of  the  primal  seas  up 
to  our  stately  forests  and  flowery  fields. 

But  the  social  and  moral  evolution  is  quite  as 
evident  as  the  physical.  Error  is  weak  and  has  to 
give  way.  Only  truth  is  "  fittest "  and  finally  sur 
vives.  In  the  intellectual  world,  it  is  sure  to  win,  — 
aided  by  every  agitation  and  even  opposition ;  so  that 
Paul  well  said,  "  We  can  do  nothing  against,  but  for 
the  truth."  In  the  moral  world,  the  right  wins  by  the 
same  principle  ;  and,  though  often  suppressed,  shows  a 
general  advance.  See  the  moral  progress,  from  prim 
itive  savages  eating  each  other,  to  modern  cities  send 
ing  shiploads  of  food  to  the  needy  around  the  earth. 
See  the  religious  progress,  since  even  the  Biblical 
Psalmist  prayed  for  an  opponent :  "  Let  his  days  be 
few,  and  his  wife  a  widow  "  ;  "let  there  be  none  to 
extend  mercy  unto  him,  neither  let  there  be  any  to 
favor  his  fatherless  children."  See  the  advance,  from 
the  fierce  persecutions  urged  even  by  the  Church  only 
a  few  centuries  ago,  to  the  universal  charity  preached 
in  so  many  pulpits  to-day.  Plainly  the  spiritual  world 
shows  evolution  as  well  as  the  vegetable.  In  both 
alike,  the  sowing  not  only  preserves,  but  advances 
life,  by  the  mere  laws  of  Nature. 


102   AN  OLD  PARABLE  EXTENDED 

But  the  notable  thing  in  Jesus'  parable  is  that  it 
takes  us  beyond  unaided  Nature,  to  human  art,  —  and 
thereby  gives  us  a  higher  lesson.  He  illustrated  the 
"  kingdom  of  heaven,"  not  by  the  forests  and  wilds 
sowing  all  seeds  at  random,  but  by  a  man  who  "went 
forth  to  sow," — and  again  by  "a  man  sowing  good 
seed  in  his  field."  For  by  man's  sowing  comes  a  far 
faster  progress  than  Nature's.  She  sows  indiscrimi 
nately,  everything  and  everywhere,  —  leaving  the  fitter 
forms  to  fight  their  own  way,  and  to  win  by  the  slow 
process  of  natural  selection.  But  man  takes  the  selec 
tion  and  sowing  into  his  own  hands,  and  carries  them 
further.  He  selects,  not  merely  after  the  sowing,  like 
her,  but  before,  and  sows  only  the  best.  He  selects, 
not  only  the  best  species,  but  the  best  spots  for  their 
growth.  He  not  only  sows,  but  protects  and  culti 
vates.  By  this  continued  selection  and  cultivation  of 
the  better  varieties  as  they  arise,  his  progress  leaves 
Nature's  far  behind  ;  —  and  Thoreau  said,  man  made 
trees  bear  fruit  that  God  never  gave  them.  Nature's 
growths  seem  about  the  same  as  ages  ago  ;  —  but  art 
has  developed  the  wild  grains  and  fruits  into  richer  of 
countless  kinds,  and  one  flower  into  several  hundred 
varieties.  Schliemann  said  he  found  still  growing,  on 
the  top  of  Mount  Gargarus,  the  same  violets  and 
hyacinths  which  Homer  pictured  there  for  the  couch 


AN   OLD    PARABLE   EXTENDED        103 

of  Zeus  and  Hera.  But  whatever  may  have  been 
Homer's  flowers,  hyacinths  have  since  been  so  devel 
oped  that  two  thousand  varieties  of  them  are  said  to 
have  been  cultivated  in  Holland  a  century  ago. 

We  would  not  boast  too  much  of  human  art.  The 
majestic  pines  of  California  grew  without  it.  The 
calypso  blooms  in  its  native  bog,  and  the  cactus  on 
the  desert  sands,  with  a  glory  that  mocks  our  gardens. 
But,  in  general,  our  orchards  and  greenhouses  far 
outdo  the  wilderness.  By  the  aid  of  human  culture, 
the  prairies,  on  which  the  buffaloes  recently  roamed, 
are  to-day  feeding  foreign  nations ;  and  the  forests 
in  which  a  few  hunters  led  a  half-starved  life  have 
given  way  to  populous  States  and  the  comforts  of 
civilization.  So  does  art  improve  the  produce  of 
the  soil. 

No  less  does  it  improve  the  produce  in  the  social 
and  spiritual  field.  Here,  too,  the  progress  has  largely 
come  through  human  effort  and  interference  with  nat 
ural  instincts.  By  such  efforts,  —  in  governments 
and  laws  and  schools  and  churches,  —  savage  passions 
have  been  cleared  off,  better  principles  planted  in  their 
place,  and  these  improved  by  continual  culture,  like 
grain  and  grapes.  Not  that  we  would  carry  culture 
to  excess,  and  war  against  Nature,  like  the  preachers 
of  "  total  depravity."  We  do  not  need  to  be  contin- 


104   AN  OLD  PARABLE  EXTENDED 

ually  harrowing  children's  minds,  any  more  than 
meadows ;  —  and  much  of  the  spiritual  field,  like  our 
noble  forest-parks,  wants  no  replanting.  Many  of  the 
best  human  qualities  grow  like  the  pines,  without  even 
pruning,  and  often  on  unpromising  soil.  In  real  kind 
ness  and  devotion,  the  peasant's  cottage  often  outdoes 
the  colleges ;  and  sometimes  the  very  slums  shame 
the  sanctuaries. 

But,  in  general,  the  best  fruits,  of  soil  and  society 
alike,  demand  culture.  Will  the  finest  thoughts 
flourish  without  being  planted  ?  No  more  than  wheat. 
Leave  Nature  to  sow  that,  and  see  what  you  will  get ! 
Even  when  planted,  will  the  best  principles  thrive 
without  care  ?  Try  it  in  the  corn-field,  and  you  find 
the  crop  soon  choked  with  a  lower  growth.  Human 
nature,  like  the  soil,  is  full  of  poor  seeds,  and  every 
wind  sows  more  of  them.  Nature  prefers  them, 
too ;  —  is  partial  to  her  own  wild  children,  and  not 
fond  of  the  more  refined  step-daughters  of  culture. 
She  likes  weeds  better  than  corn,  rude  strength 
more  than  righteousness  ;  and  without  continued  care 
of  the  higher  growth,  you  will  hardly  get  back  as 
much  as  was  planted.  Even  that  will  hardly  be  as 
good  as  was  planted.  For  there  is  a  law  of  "  rever 
sion,"  the  naturalists  say,  by  which  an  improved  form, 
if  left  untrained,  tends  to  return  to  its  wild  parent. 


AN  OLD  PARABLE  EXTENDED   105 

Though  favoring  advance,  Nature  wants  it  slow,  like 
hers,  and  puts  back  our  more  rapid  progress  when 
she  can ;  —  makes  our  rich  grains  and  graces  alike 
"revert"  to  ruder  forms;  makes  our  best  vines  and 
virtues  soon  degenerate.  Not  only  for  making  prog 
ress,  but  for  keeping  what  is  made,  there  must  be  con 
tinued  planting  of  the  best. 

What,  then,  should  be  planted  ?  The  good  princi 
ples  from  the  past ;  —  for  this  is  the  lesson  of  sowing. 
Many  indeed  seem  to  doubt  it.  They  say  we  have 
now  entered  a  new  and  scientific  era,  which  should 
cut  loose  from  the  old  days  of  ignorance  and  start  life 
anew.  But  the  farms  rebuke  that  philosophy.  The 
crops  cannot  cut  loose  from  the  past.  The  modern 
farmer  may  invent  new  and  scientific  methods  of  reap 
ing  and  sowing,  —  but  he  cannot  invent  the  seed. 
The  despised  past  produced  it  for  him,  and  had  to 
improve  it  for  ages  before  he  could  glory  in  his  grain- 
fields  and  agricultural  fairs.  Civilization  has  grown 
in  the  same  way ;  and  the  reformer  who  boasts  his 
independence  of  the  past  would  do  well  to  try  the  ex 
periment  first  on  his  farm,  —  burn  up  his  seed-corn,  and 
try  to  manufacture  better  by  his  boasted  machinery. 
Wise  men,  from  Confucius  to  Goethe,  have  agreed 
that  the  great  saving  principles  have  all  been  taught 


106   AN  OLD  PARABLE  EXTENDED 

of  old,  and  only  need  to  be  kept  growing,  with  ever 
wider  use  and  improvement.  Wise  men  revere  ancient 
laws  and  literatures,  and  Jesus  well  said,  "  Search  the 
Scriptures." 

But  he  said  "  search  "  them,  —  and  perhaps  that  is 
the  word  he  emphasized.  "  Search  the  Scriptures,"- 
not  accept  them  indiscriminately.  "  Search  "  for  the 
good,  select  the  best,  keep  and  cultivate  that,  and  let 
the  poorer  go  ;  —  just  as  Paul  said,  "  Prove  all  things, 
hold  fast  that  which  is  good."  In  practice,  too,  Jesus 
followed  this  principle  of  selection  which  we  have 
traced  ;  and  he  abandoned  much  even  in  the  Bible. 
He  left  behind  all  its  elaborate  sacrificial  Law,  and 
said  the  Lord  wanted  "mercy  and  not  sacrifice."  He 
seems  to  have  dropped  some  even  of  its  Decalogue, 
and,  in  quoting,  always  omits  a  part.  He  not  only 
omits  the  Sabbath  law,  but  so  violated  it  that  one  New 
Testament  passage  says  he  had  "  broken  the  Sabbath," 
and  another  that  he  "  keepeth  not  the  Sabbath  day." 
He  even  contradicts  the  Scripture,  and  quotes  words 
from  its  very  Law,  —  such  as  "eye  for  eye  and  tooth 
for  tooth," —  expressly  to  deny  them.  Indeed,  the  most 
of  that  Law  he  virtually  denied,  and  long  chapters  and 
collections  of  its  ceremonial  orders  his  teachings 
winnowed  away  as  worthless  chaff.  Much  else  in  the 
Old  Testament, — all  its  precepts  and  practices  of 


AN    OLD    PARABLE   EXTENDED        107 

vengeance  and  hate,  —  Jesus  treated  as  worse  than 
worthless.  All  its  intolerance  was  attacked  in  his 
teaching ;  —  like  those  "  tares  "  which  he  ordered  to 
"burn." 

But  though  rejecting  the  weeds  in  old  Scriptures, 
Jesus  kept  the  wheat ;  and  though  winnowing  away 
its  ritual  chaff,  he  kept  its  kernels  of  righteousness 
and  love.  He  gathered  these  in  his  Beatitudes,  and 
made  them  the  essentials  and  only  essentials  of  relig 
ion.  He  gave  the  Golden  Rule  as  the  sum  of  "  the 
Law  and  the  Prophets"  ;  —  just  as  Paul  said  "Love 
is  the  fulfilling  of  the  Law."  This  is  the  seed  which 
Jesus  selected  and  sowed  and  taught  his  followers  to 
sow. 

But  he  also  foresaw  that  this  best  religious  sowing 
would  suffer  from  hostile  conditions.  He  said  it  would 
not  grow  much  when  falling  on  "stony  places"  or 
"among  thorns"  or  "by  the  wayside";  —  and  that 
even  where  it  grew,  the  "  tares  "  would  soon  be  sown 
among  it  and  choke  its  growth.  History  has  shown 
that  he  was  quite  correct  in  this.  Part  of  the  Church- 
field  has  been  "  good  ground,"  where  his  seed  has 
brought  forth  "some  thirty-fold"  and  "some  a  hun 
dred-fold."  But  much  of  it  has  been  "  stony  "  with 
old  prejudices  which  did  not  allow  it  to  take  root. 
Much  has  been  full  of  the  "  thorns  "  of  savage  pas- 


io8   AN  OLD  PARABLE  EXTENDED 

sions  and  selfish  policies,  where  "the  care  of  the 
world  and  the  deceitfulness  of  riches  choke  the  word." 
Much  has  been  "by  the  wayside"  of  formal  routine, 
and  along  hardened  paths  of  habit,  where  "  it  was 
trodden  under  foot "  and  kept  from  growing.  Even 
where  Jesus'  teachings  have  grown,  they  have  often 
been  crushed  to  death  in  quarrels  about  him  and  his 
nature.  The  Church  has  often  ceased  to  gather  his 
true  grain  of  righteousness,  and  has  harvested  instead 
all  sorts  of  theological  straw  and  ritual  stubble.  Even 
the  old  intolerance  and  hate  were  soon  sown  again  in 
many  forms,  and  the  Church  sometimes  zealously 
devoted  itself  to  the  burning  of  the  Christian  wheat 
and  to  the  cultivation  of  "tares." 

Hence  the  seed  that  has  been  handed  down  needs 
much  cleaning  to-day.  Much  worthless  ceremonial 
chaff  needs  to  be  blown  away.  Much  worse  inter 
mixture  of  unrighteous  weeds  needs  to  be  burned,  as 
Jesus  said.  The  old  parable  reads  that  they  should 
not  be  burned  until  "  the  end  of  the  world  "  ;  —  but 
that  is  because  the  writer  thought  the  world  was  going 
to  end  right  away.  Had  he  known  it  would  last  nine 
teen  hundred  years,  he  would  doubtless  have  wanted 
them  burned  sooner.  At  any  rate,  the  tares  of  intol 
erance,  in  any  form,  have  been  the  worst  foe  of  Christ. 
They  have  grown  in  every  land  to  choke  charity  ;  they 


AN    OLD    PARABLE   EXTENDED        109 

have  leaved  out  in  unjust  laws  and  edicts  and  acts  of 
persecution  ;  they  have  blossomed  blood-red  in  hun 
dreds  of  battlefields  and  in  the  flames  of  countless 
martyrdoms  ;  they  have  ripened  seeds  of  hate  that  are 
still  growing  in  the  religious  fields.  They  have  done 
more  than  anything  else  to  kill  the  Christian  spirit, 
and  ought  to  be  treated  without  the  least  tenderness. 
Whatever  teachings  increase  hate  in  the  world  are 
infinitely  worse  than  any  weeds.  We  ought  at  least 
to  pluck  them  out  of  our  own  minds  ;  and  we  may  be 
allowed  to  protest  against  their  culture  in  the  minds 
of  others,  —  to  be  sown  through  the  community  like 
thistle-down. 

Nor  need  we,  in  opposing  any  intolerant  doctrines, 
follow  the  cautious  maxim  to  wait  until  we  have  per 
fected  better  to  put  in  their  place.  Their  empty  place 
is  far  better  than  they  are.  To  save  them  until  we 
get  some  perfect  system  is  like  saving  wolves  until  the 
lambs  are  born,  or  saving  serpents  until  we  get  sing 
ing-birds  to  "put  in  their  place."  We  may  always 
rebuke  any  form  of  wrong  without  waiting  until  we 
have  elaborated  the  highest  religion.  Indeed,  we 
already  have  the  highest  religion,  in  the  simple  truths 
of  righteousness  which  Jesus  selected  and  sowed. 

Not  that  this  religion  came  from  him  alone,  or  that 
he  ever  claimed  so.  He  saw  it,  not  only  in  the  Hebrew 


no   AN  OLD  PARABLE  EXTENDED 

Scriptures  before  him,  but  in  the  heresies  and  heathen 
isms  around  him.  He  told  the  parable  of  the  good 
Samaritan  expressly  to  picture  that  heretic  as  holier 
than  the  venerated  "  priest "  and  "  Levite,"  and  he 
habitually  showed  more  sympathy  with  "  publican " 
and  pagan  humanities  than  with  the  professional  piety 
of  either  the  Jewish  priesthood  before  him  or  the 
Christian  after  him. 

For  the  "  good  seed  "  has  been  growing  under 
many  names  and  forms.  Christianity  may  be  the  best 
historic  religion,  —  the  wheatfield  in  the  kingdom  of 
God.  But  that  does  not  make  it  the  only  good  relig 
ion,  any  more  than  wheat  is  the  only  good  grain.  The 
same  starch  which  makes  the  worth  of  wheat  is  found 
in  all  other  grains ;  and  the  same  righteousness  which 
makes  the  worth  of  Christianity  is  found  in  other 
religions,  in  various  degrees.  If  good  in  one,  it  is  good 
in  another.  If  divine  in  Christianity,  it  is  divine  wher 
ever  found.  Much  of  the  preaching  against  heathen 
faiths  is  as  if  the  wheat  farmer  should  denounce  rye 
as  an  ungodly  cereal,  or  corn  as  a  crop  from  Satan. 
Much  of  the  missionary  effort  to  make  pagan  nations 
adopt  our  theologic  dogmas  is  like  an  effort  to  make 
them  adopt  our  diet.  If  we  must  pity  the  poor  China 
man  for  preferring  rice,  or  the  Mohammedan  for  eat 
ing  bananas,  we  ought  not  to  denounce  them  for  it. 


AN   OLD    PARABLE   EXTENDED        in 

It  is  wiser  to  partake  with  them  occasionally.  Prob 
ably  in  religion,  as  in  life,  the  best  diet  is  a  varied  one, 
confined  to  no  single  faith,  but  gathering  good  things 
from  all,  and  combining  their  diversities. 

This  lesson  of  variety  and  combination  is  taught 
even  in  our  parable.  Not  only  is  there  great  diversity 
of  grains,  but  every  "  good  seed  "  has  come  from  the 
union  of  opposite  sexes.  Even  many  of  the  smaller 
spores  are  subject  to  the  same  law.  Only  the  earliest 
and  lowest  forms  of  life  are  without  sex.  Thence 
forth,  through  the  advancing  series,  the  union  of  male 
and  female  elements  becomes  more  important ;  —  and 
no  true  seed  has  ever  been  produced  without  it.  Still 
further,  the  union  of  diversities  is  taught ;  —  for  the 
higher  orders  not  only  thus  unite  two  sexes,  but  often 
unite  them  only  from  two  different  flowers  or  even 
from  two  different  plants.  They  show  many  a  curious 
device  to  prevent  self-pollination  from  the  same  blos 
som  or  plant,  and  a  large  part  of  them  make  it  quite 
impossible  by  producing  the  pollen  only  in  another. 
To  bring  it  from  elsewhere,  even  the  winds  and  insects 
are  engaged ;  —  as  the  Greek  Theophrastus  taught, 
300  B.  c.,  and  as  recent  botanists  have  traced  to  a 
surprising  extent.  To  grasses,  sedges,  conifers,  and 
many  forest  trees,  it  is  brought  by  the  breezes.  To 
more  conspicuous  blossoms,  it  is  brought  by  bees  and 


ii2   AN  OLD  PARABLE  EXTENDED 

butterflies.  Even  the  honey  and  perfumes  are  said 
to  be  but  baits  to  bribe  insects  to  this  work ;  and 
many  think  that  even  the  colors  are  lures  to  attract 
them.  Often,  —  as  in  orchids  and  milkweeds,  —  the 
flower  is  most  curiously  constructed  so  as  to  make  the 
bee  unwillingly  load  himself  with  packages  of  pollen 
from  one  blossom,  and  unload  them  in  another. 
Many  of  the  irregular  shapes  of  flowers  are  adapted 
to  the  same  end,  —  to  engage  insects  for  this  impor 
tant  work  of  cross-fertilization.  Florists  carry  the 
work  still  further,  even  to  the  crossing  of  different 
varieties,  and  thus  obtain  new  and  richer. 

So  does  even  the  plant-world  protest  against  exclu- 
siveness,  and  proclaim  the  need  of  variations,  contrasts, 
combinations,  crossings.  Probably  the  religious  world 
has  the  same  need.  The  highest  religion  will  be  no 
one-sided  or  one-sexed  movement,  such  as  is  now  too 
often  seen ;  but,  like  every  seed,  will  come  from  the 
marriage  of  contrasts,  from  the  wedding  of  finest  fem 
inine  feeling  with  most  fearless  masculine  thought. 
The  highest  religion  will  show  no  exclusiveness ;  but, 
like  the  most  advanced  flowers,  will  welcome  vari 
ations,  and  even  wish  to  be  cross-fertilized  from  with 
out.  It  will  take  truth  from  whatever  source,  as  the 
pine-cone  gathers  pollen  from  every  breeze.  Its  best 
missionaries  will  be  no  sectarian  preachers  trying  to 


AN   OLD    PARABLE   EXTENDED        113 

impose  some  single  faith ;  but  all  men  and  movements, 
however  secular  and  unintentional,  that  are  aiding  in 
tercommunication  among  the  sects,  bringing  an  inter 
change  between  them,  as  bees  do  between  the  flowers. 
From  this  cross-fertilization  of  faiths  will  come  a  more 
charitable,  vigorous,  and  richer  religion,  flowering  in 
sweeter  sentiments  and  ripening  a  larger  harvest  of 
human  brotherhood. 

Such  are  a  few  of  the  lessons  involved  to-day  in  the 
parable  of  the  sower.     Chief  of  them  is  that  old  one, 

—  to  keep  on  ever  selecting  and  sowing  the  best. 
This  is  about  all  that  we  need  to  emphasize  ;  —  for  if 
we  will  but  sow  aright,  Nature  will  take  care  of  the 
growth.    As  another  form  of  the  parable  said,  though 
the  sower  might  afterward  sleep,  yet  "  the  seed  should 
spring  and  grow  up,  he  knoweth  not  how ;  for  the 
earth  bringeth  forth  fruit  of  itself,  first  the  blade, 
then  the  ear,  then  the  full  corn  in  the  ear."    We  need 
not  even  spend  much  time  warring  against  the  tares, 

—  for  sowing  is  one  of  the  best  ways  to  do  this.    On 
the  western  plains  you  may  see  wide  fields  of  alfalfa 
clover,  a  great  sea  of  richest  green  without  a  weed  in 
sight,  though  millions  are  choking  beneath.     Get  the 
religion  of  love  once  well  started,  and  the  weeds  will 
not  trouble  us.     The  tares  will  die  out  of  themselves. 


ii4   AN  OLD  PARABLE  EXTENDED 

The  good  grain  will  grow  "night  and  day,"  while  we 
wake  and  while  we  sleep.  It  will  bring  the  blessed 
fruit  of  a  better  brotherhood.  It  will  bring  more  faith 
in  that  divine  Power  which  everywhere,  in  soil  and 
society  and  souls,  works  this  miracle  of  the  seed,  and 
which  follows  every  fall  of  leaves  with  the  resurrec 
tion  of  a  larger  life. 


THE    DIVINITY    OF    MAN 


THE    DIVINITY    OF    MAN 

THE  divinity  of  man  seems  much  less  clear  to-day 
than  it  did  a  few  centuries  ago.     Then  he  was 
thought  made  by  the  hand  and  "  in  the  image 
of  God."     Not  only  was  he  guarded  by  divine  care, 
but  the  great  earth  had  been  created  especially  for  his 
home.     Even  the  heavens  were  made  for  him,  —  the 
sun  for  his  light  by  day,  the  moon  and  all  the  myriad 
stars  for  his  lamps  by  night. 

But  such  thoughts  have  been  fading  before  the 
modern  sciences.  First  came  astronomy,  showing 
that  little  sun  a  million  times  larger  than  the  earth, 
and  turning  those  star-lamps  into  other  and  often 
vaster  suns,  beneath  which  our  earth  seemed  to  shrink 
to  an  atom,  and  our  importance  to  shrivel  with  it.  So 
many  of  them  were  found,  too ;  —  their  millions  mul 
tiplying  with  every  advance  in  optical  art,  each  one  a 
world  and  a  supposed  center  of  a  system  of  worlds. 
The  Psalmist  was  right :  "  When  I  consider  the  stars, 
what  is  man,  that  thou  art  mindful  of  him  ? "  Another 
great  Hebrew  writer  sublimely  represented  the  Creator 
weighing  the  mountains  in  scales  and  the  hills  in  a 


n8  THE    DIVINITY   OF   MAN 

balance,  and  counting  nations  as  but  the  fine  dust  of 
the  balance.  But  to-day  the  dust  of  his  balance  is 
seen  to  be,  not  merely  nations,  but  constellations  in 
which  our  whole  earth  would  count  as  nothing.  So 
has  astronomy  mocked  those  medieval  thoughts. 

Geology  has  mocked  them  further.  It  has  taught 
that  even  this  atom  of  an  earth  was  not  made  for  us, 
but  was  filled  with  life  for  countless  ages  before  us. 
Through  immeasurable  eons,  its  lands  were  rich  with 
forests,  but  with  no  lumbermen  to  cut  them.  Through 
earlier  and  vastly  longer  periods,  its  seas  swarmed  with 
rich  life,  but  with  no  human  being  to  profit  by  it. 
To  the  geologist,  man,  instead  of  being  the  aim  of 
creation,  seemed  more  like  an  afterthought,  —  and 
very  near  not  getting  created  at  all. 

Even  when  created,  he  appeared  far  from  divine, 
and  each  succeeding  science  seemed  to  leave  him 
lower.  Anthropology  pointed  to  his  low  origin,  savage 
and  even  animal.  Physiology  added  that  he  is  still 
animal ;  —  with  his  boasted  mind  closely  connected 
with  the  folds  of  his  brain  and  the  flow  of  his  blood, 
and  with  his  soul  quite  dependent  on  the  state  of 
his  stomach.  Chemistry  analyzed  brain,  blood,  heart, 
without  finding  any  soul.  All  the  sciences,  too, 
showed  life  following  fixed  laws,  which  seemed  to 
disprove  divine  care,  and  to  leave  no  need  of  a  God 


THE    DIVINITY   OF    MAN  119 

except  at  creation.  Finally  came  the  doctrine  of 
evolution,  seeming  to  add  that  there  was  no  such 
need  even  at  creation,  but  that  mere  matter  con 
tained  the  "  promise  and  potency  "  of  all  life,  and  that 
the  primal  nebula  of  itself  had  developed  into  planets, 
plants,  men,  mind,  morals,  —  as  naturally  as  a  seed 
into  a  tree  or  an  egg  into  an  eagle.  Man,  instead  of 
being  divinely  created  in  the  "  image  of  God,"  seemed 
only  to  have  grown  out  of  a  gastrula,  and  out  of  a  gas 
behind  that.  So  low  did  the  modern  sciences  seem 
to  degrade  us. 

But  it  was  a  false  alarm.  A  little  thought  shows  that 
they  do  not  degrade  us  at  all.  Even  astronomy  does 
not.  In  Fontenelle's  famous  "  Plurality  of  Worlds," 
the  charming  marquise  declares  that  the  doctrine  of 
the  earth's  inferiority  will  not  humiliate  her  :  "  I  assure 
you  that  I  esteem  myself  no  less  for  it."  Nor  need 
she,  for  anything  that  astronomy  has  shown.  How 
ever  small  the  earth,  it  seems  to  rank  well  among  the 
planets.  In  Voltaire's  "  Micromegas,"  a  huge  visitor 
from  the  great  Saturn,  after  trying  in  vain  with  his 
coarse  eyes  to  see  any  inhabitants  on  earth,  concluded 
that  there  could  be  none,  —  since,  he  said,  it  was  so 
contemptibly  small  a  world  that  no  creatures  of  good 
sense  would  inhabit  it.  But  to-day  the  earth  is  gen- 


120  THE   DIVINITY   OF   MAN 

erally  admitted  to  be  a  far  more  sensible  place  to  live 
than  his  own  Saturn.  The  British  lady,  traveling  in 
Asia,  resented  being  called  a  foreigner,  and  said, "  No ! 
It's  you  natives  that  are  foreigners  ;  —  I  am  English." 
Many  things  seem  to  indicate  that  our  earth  is  the 
little  England  of  the  solar  system,  and  that,  when  we 
travel,  we  shall  be  entitled  to  treat  the  natives  of  the 
larger  planets  with  British  condescension. 

Nor  need  the  immensity  of  the  sun  shame  us. 
Indeed,  it  is  very  gratifying  to  learn  that  he  is  so 
great,  since  he  is  still  our  servant,  rising  faithfully 
every  morning  to  strike  the  light  and  start  the  fire, 
and  to  work  for  us  in  a  thousand  ways.  Even  the 
stars  send  us  a  pleasant  message,  in  showing  our 
universe  so  rich  in  room  and  real  estate.  Astronomy, 
after  all,  has  not  mocked  man  in  the  least,  but  only 
shown  him  the  grandeur  of  his  world. 

No  more  has  geology,  in  showing  the  age  of  the 
earth.  Indeed,  it  would  seem  more  honorable  to  have 
our  world  made  with  such  vast  expense  of  time  and 
power,  like  a  royal  palace,  than  hastily  in  a  week,  like 
a  pioneer's  cabin.  Even  that  long  succession  of  life 
on  earth  before  man,  instead  of  dishonoring  him,  was 
really  a  vast  retinue  of  servants  getting  it  ready  for 
his  arrival.  Those  forests  were  making  coal  and  oil 
for  him  to  burn,  and  better  air  for  him  to  breathe. 


THE   DIVINITY   OF    MAN  121 

Those  animals  were  helping  to  make  the  rocks  to 
be  built  into  his  walls  and  to  be  ground  into  his 
farms.  Geology  seems  rather  to  have  raised  the 
rank  of  man,  by  showing  this  infinite  preparation 
for  him. 

Nor  is  the  divine  care  made  any  less  by  this  rigid 
reign  of  law  and  order,  but  rather  is  shown  more 
faithful  by  it.  The  rigid  order  is  itself  kinder  than 
any  interference  with  it  would  be.  Ancient  literature 
has  many  old  stories  of  the  sun  stopping  in  the  sky, 
at  various  times,  to  help  a  few  people.  But  such 
stories  showed  far  less  providence  than  does  the  daily 
sun  we  see,  forever  moving  with  such  faithfulness  to 
help  all  mankind,  and  never  arrested  to  mock  their 
trust  and  derange  their  day.  They  showed  far  less 
marvel,  too ;  and  Ruskin  refused  to  wonder  at  the 
tales  of  the  sun  stopping,  and  said  he  always  was 
expecting  it  would  stop,  —  the  miracle  was  rather  in 
its  going  so  steadily.  So  in  everything :  to  a  wise 
man  it  is  the  going  rather  than  the  stopping  that 
makes  the  marvel.  However  much  miracle  he  may 
see  in  the  many  old  stories  of  rivers  suddenly  standing 
still,  as  if  gravitation  had  given  out,  —  he  will  see  far 
more  in  our  familiar  Mississippi  forever  flowing  with 
such  force,  forever  refilled  with  waters  that  have  been 
fetched  from  far-off  seas  and  fallen  in  rains  to  refresh 


122  THE   DIVINITY   OF   MAN 

a  myriad  farms,  —  as  if  from  the  very  hand  of  Provi 
dence.  However  much  miracle  he  may  see  in  the 
story  of  the  blasted  fig-tree,  he  will  see  infinitely  more 
in  our  millions  of  trees  unblasted  by  summer  drought 
or  winter  frost,  and  full  of  a  life  which  no  botany  can 
explain  and  no  familiarity  make  less  mysterious. 

Wisdom  will  see  miracle  in  all  life,  and  especially  in 
human  life.  Edwin  Arnold  tells  of  watching  one  day, 
in  the  South  Kensington  Museum,  a  graceful  English 
girl  looking  at  the  exhibition  of  the  various  chemical 
elements  that  compose  a  human  body.  It  made  him 
think  of  the  marvelous  power  in  Nature,  which  could 
combine  those  dead  elements  into  the  beautiful  being 
who  stood  before  him  overflowing  with  life  and  loveli 
ness  ;  and  which  could  still  more  marvelously  make  her 
the  sacred  shrine  for  the  reproduction  and  perpetua 
tion  of  that  life.  Miracles  are  common,  said  he,  clos 
ing  his  paragraph.  Yes,  common  as  the  cradle.  And 
to  the  wise  man  every  human  birth,  with  its  unfathom 
able  mystery  of  life  and  love,  is  miraculous. 

No  life  or  process  is  any  less  divine  because  following 
laws.  For  a  law  of  Nature  is  nothing  but  the  regular 
way  in  which  the  power  within  it  works,  and  no  more 
explains  that  work  than  the  railway-track  explains  the 
power  of  the  rushing  train.  The  fidelity  of  life  to 
law  no  more  disproves  deity  than  the  fidelity  of  that 


THE    DIVINITY   OF    MAN  123 

train  to  the  time-table  disproves  the  conductor.  In 
deed,  just  as  the  very  precision  with  which  that  train 
reaches  the  station  at  the  right  minute  proves  that  it 
has  a  conductor,  so  the  precision  with  which  a  planet 
reaches  its  occupation  at  the  appointed  second  seems 
to  suggest  that  the  universe  has  one  too.  A  poet 
well  said  that  the  laws  of  the  world  are  but  the  habits 
of  God ;  and  modern  science  has  only  been  showing 
that  those  habits  are  regular,  and  hence  this  God  more 
faithful  than  our  fathers  knew.  The  universal  reign 
of  laws  that  can  always  be  trusted  would  seem  to  be 
the  best  proof  of  divine  care. 

Nor  does  even  the  theory  of  evolution  deny  this 
care,  —  but  shows  only  a  further  extension  of  that 
thought  of  order.  Creation  through  evolution  is  sim 
ply  creation  through  law,  and  only  extends  through 
time  the  idea  already  extended  through  space.  Law 
had  already  been  found  everywhere  in  the  present, 
making  universal  order ;  and  evolution  only  adds  that 
it  has  been  everywhere  in  the  past  also,  making  that 
order  eternal  and  perfect.  It  does  not  make  creation 
any  less  divine,  but  all  the  more  so,  because  infinite, 
filling  eternity  instead  of  a  week.  John  Fiske  said 
every  one  of  the  changes  supposed  in  the  theory  of 
evolution  can  be  regarded  as  "the  creative  action  of 
God  "  ;  and  John  \Veiss  said  every  one  is  "  God's  dis- 


124  THE    DIVINITY    OF    MAN 

tinct  statement  that  he  is  on  the  spot."  The  theory 
does  not  make  man's  origin  any  less  divine. 

And  how  else  can  it  disgrace  him  ?  How  can  it 
degrade  the  human  race  to  have  been  developed  from 
a  gastrular  form,  when  every  person  in  it  is  still  so 
developed  ?  When  every  one  of  us  started  from  a  cell 
a  few  years  ago,  how  can  we  be  disgraced  by  suppos 
ing  that  our  race  so  started  a  few  million  years  ago  ? 
Rather,  the  theory  gives  new  dignity  to  human  nature, 
by  showing  it  to  be  the  outcome  of  an  infinite  process. 
It  makes  the  creation  of  man  no  mere  work  of  a  day, 
but  of  all  the  ages  and  agencies  of  time.  The  gather 
ing  of  the  nebula  and  globing  of  the  earth,  the 
crystallization  of  rocks  and  condensation  of  seas,  the 
lifting  of  lands  and  long  succession  of  living  forms ; 
—  all  these  infinite  changes  are  seen  as  steps  in  the 
creation  of  man.  He  appears  no  late  addition  to  the 
earth,  no  mere  inheritor  of  its  riches,  but  the  chief  aim 
of  its  activities,  the  being  to  whose  creation  suns  and 
seas  and  all  the  geologic  eons  have  contributed  their 
life.  Surely  such  a  theory  does  not  degrade  us. 

Nor  do  any  ancestors  that  science  may  see  fit  to 
give  us.  Henry  Ward  Beecher  said  he  should  con 
sider  it  more  honorable  to  have  been  created  from 
monkeys  than  from  mud.  Lowell,  lying  "  under  the 
willows  "  that  June  day,  said  he  cared  not  whether  men 


THE   DIVINITY   OF    MAN  125 

trace  their  origin  to  "  ape  or  Adam,"  but  was  inclined 
to  think  a  tree  among  his  progenitors.  Would  it  not 
indeed  be  more  honorable  to  have  had  the  lowest 
ancestors,  and  to  have  risen  from  them,  than  to  have 
had  perfect  ones,  and  then  fallen  into  total  depravity,  — 
as  used  to  be  taught  ? 

And  we  may  notice,  in  passing,  that  the  Bible  it 
self  corrects  that  doctrine.  It  teaches  that  our  first 
parents  were  far  from  perfect,  and  that  their  loss  of 
Eden  was  not  a  fall  but  a  rise.  The  Eden  of  the 
Bible,  though  blessed  with  abundant  food  and  easy 
living,  still  shows  them  leading  a  lazy  and  low  life,  — 
much  indeed  like  that  still  seen  in  fertile  tropical  lands. 
They  are  pictured  in  the  story  as  being  in  a  very  back 
ward  state,  almost  animal ;  —  naked  and  not  even 
knowing  it ;  disliking  work  and  considering  it  a  curse  ; 
ignorant  and  unmoral,  not  having  yet  tasted  of  the 
"tree  of  knowledge  of  good  and  evil."  And  though 
by  tasting  it  they  lose  that  Eden  of  animal  ease 
and  ignorance,  —  just  as  mankind  has  lost  it,  —  still 
they  lose  it  only  to  gain  something  better.  They  are 
indeed  driven  out  to  a  life  of  toil  and  hardship,  and  of 
ceaseless  hunger  for  higher  things ;  but  that  change 
is  itself  a  rise  rather  than  a  fall,  and  even  Jehovah 
says  so,  in  the  story.  The  wise  serpent  had  declared 
that  by  eating  of  that  fruit  of  forbidden  knowledge 


126  THE   DIVINITY   OF   MAN 

they  would  become  "as  gods";  and  after  they  have 
eaten  it,  Jehovah  also  declares  that  they  have  so 
become, — "as  one  of  us,"  like  the  gods.  This  cer 
tainly  was  no  fall.  To  leave  their  naked  animal  life, 
to  go  to  work,  to  gain  knowledge,  to  learn  the  differ 
ence  between  good  and  evil,  to  become  godlike,  - 
that  was  certainly  a  rise. 

That  old  Biblical  story  not  only  is  thus  a  story  of 
human  progress,  but,  as  such,  it  relieves  Eve  and  her 
sex  from  the  censure  they  have  so  long  suffered.  It 
makes  her  take  a  leading  part  in  progress,  just  as 
women  always  have  done.  It  honors  her  as  the  first 
to  see  that  this  fruit,  which  Adam  feared,  was  "  to  be 
desired  to  make  one  wise"  and  godlike.  It  honors 
her  as  the  first  to  pluck  of  that  blessed  fruit  of 
knowledge,  —  just  as  she  has  been  in  many  a  place. 
It  then  makes  her  persuade  her  slower  husband  to 
partake  of  it, — just  as  she  still  does  in  countless 
families  in  America. 

So,  thanks  largely  to  her,  our  ancestors  lost  that 
lazy  Eden  of  ease  and  animal  content,  and  went  out 
to  a  life  of  labor,  of  thought,  of  unrest,  of  hunger, 
and  of  endless  effort  and  strife.  The  new  life  was 
indeed  harder,  but  higher,  and  Jehovah  rightly  declared 
that  they  had  thereby  become  as  gods.  Elsewhere, 
too,  the  Bible  says  as  much.  One  of  the  Psalms 


THE   DIVINITY   OF   MAN  127 

makes  Jehovah  say  of  men,  "Ye  are  gods";  —  and 
Jesus  not  only  quotes  the  saying,  but  adds  that  it 
"cannot  be  broken."  That  other  Psalm,  which  asks 
the  Lord,  "  What  is  man,  that  thou  art  mindful 
of  him  ?  "  adds,  "Thou  hast  made  him  a  little  lower 
than  the  angels";  and  the  Revised  Version  even 
renders  it,  "but  a  little  lower  than  God." 

Cannot  we  still  see  this  godlike  in  man  ?  That 
Psalm  shows  it  by  his  "  dominion "  over  flocks  and 
fowl  and  fish  and  all  things.  But  how  much  further 
man  has  since  carried  that  "  dominion  "  !  He  has 
learned  not  merely  to  control,  but  to  create.  Those 
"fish"  he  not  only  catches,  but  increases,  and  sends 
to  fill  lakes  and  rivers  where  they  never  were  before. 
Those  flocks  and  fowls  he  not  only  multiplies,  but 
makes  to  take  new  shapes  and  colors  at  his  whim,  and 
has  created  many  new  varieties.  In  the  vegetable 
world,  he  is  ever  uttering  that  old  divine  fiat,  "  Let 
the  earth  bring  forth  grass  and  herb  and  fruit-trees  "  ; 
and  he  has  created  varieties  innumerable.  He  also 
makes  new  ground  for  them  to  grow  in,  —  redeems 
deserts  and  marshes,  beats  back  even  the  ocean  and 
founds  farms  and  cities  on  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  so 
that  the  profane  proverb  says,  "  God  made  the  earth, 
but  the  Dutch  made  Holland." 

He  enslaves  Nature's  agents,  —  makes  the  breezes 


128  THE    DIVINITY   OF   MAN 

pump  and  the  brooks  grind  for  him,  makes  the  river 
fetch  his  logs  to  mill  and  then  saw  and  carry  them  to 
market.  He  invents  new  agents,  —  makes  explosives 
by  which  he  gets  up  earthquakes  of  his  own,  rends 
the  rocks,  blows  out  the  bottom  of  rivers,  bores  through 
miles  of  mountains,  and  builds  his  roads  beneath  them. 
H»  makes  all  sorts  of  curious  transformations,  —  turns 
foul  ore  into  finest  steel,  worthless  clay  into  aluminum, 
banks  of  sand  into  glass  clear  as  Nature's  crystals, 
even  imitates  her  crystals  so  well  that,  when  I  asked 
a  girl  how  she  told  true  diamonds  from  false,  she 
said  :  "By  seeing  what  sort  of  persons  they  are 
on."  Still  more  curious  changes  man  makes  by  his 
chemistry.  Emerson  told  of  seeing  a  professor  turn 
his  old  shirts  into  pure  white  sugar.  The  professor 
does  much  better  now,  and  out  of  a  refuse  of  coal-tar 
makes  a  saccharine  said  to  be  three  hundred  times 
sweeter  than  sugar.  He  imitates  many  organic  prod 
ucts,  —  makes  perfume  of  flowers  without  the  flowers, 
extracts  of  fruits  without  the  fruits,  even  butter  with 
out  cows  (though  some  conservative  people  prefer  the 
old  kind);  —  and  dreams  of  the  day  when  he  shall 
make  beef  without  them,  and  gain  such  control  of  the 
elements  as  to  manufacture  food  without  the  trouble 
of  farming.  He  improves  upon  his  own  organs,  — 
makes  a  telescope  to  see  a  thousand  times  farther,  a 


THE   DIVINITY   OF    MAN  129 

microscope  to  see  a  thousand  times  finer,  and  the 
microphone  to  hear  the  footfall  of  a  fly.  He  even 
makes  diseases  destroy  themselves,  —  uses  the  dreaded 
germs  of  many  a  one  to  cure  it  or  to  keep  it  away, 
and  so  employs  the  deadly  pestilence  to  promote 
health  and  lengthen  life. 

Indeed,  he  often  makes  a  danger  thus  undo  itself 
and  do  the  very  thing  it  forbade.  The  river-current 
which  forbids  him  to  cross,  he  forces  to  ferry  him 
over.  The  raging  sea  which  shuts  him  from  another 
continent,  he  persuades  to  float  him  and  his  freight 
across.  The  fierce  winds  which  blow  eastward  he 
outwits  by  his  sails  and  makes  to  carry  him  west 
ward  instead.  Even  the  waves  that  want  to  drown 
him  he  turns  into  steam  to  carry  him  faster,  and, 
as  Emerson  said,  fulfills  the  fable  of  Eolus'  bag,  and 
bears  "  the  two  and  thirty  winds  in  the  boiler  of  his 
boat." 

Even  that  electric  demon  of  the  storm,  which  was 
once  thought  his  worst  foe,  man  has  tamed  and  sends 
in  the  signal-service  to  warn  the  world  when  the  storm 
is  coming,  and  so  disarms  it.  "  Canst  thou  send  light 
nings  ?"  said  Jehovah  to  Job  in  mockery  of  man's 
weakness.  "  Yes,"  he  replies  to-day,  "  send  them  and 
make  them  ";  and  he  is  making  them  continually  to 
do  the  mightiest  and  the  most  delicate  work,  to  draw 


130  THE    DIVINITY    OF    MAN 

railway-trains  or  ring  a  door-bell,  to  run  under  the 
ocean  and  around  the  world  on  his  errands,  or  carry 
his  own  voice  across  the  land.  The  lying  Yankee  in 
Europe,  boasting  what  Americans  have  done,  said  we 
no  longer  use  whistles  on  the  railroads,  because  our 
trains  go  so  fast  that  they  get  to  the  station  before 
the  sound  of  the  whistle  does.  But  we  do  even  better 
than  that  now,  and  in  the  telephone  send  a  mere 
whisper  fifty  times  faster  than  the  sound  of  a  whistle 
goes,  and  fifty  times  farther,  —  so  as  to  save  ourselves 
the  trouble  of  taking  a  train  at  all.  And  many  think 
man  has  only  begun  his  work  with  electricity.  Even 
so  eminent  a  scientist  as  A.  R.  Wallace  said  that  it 
might  yet  be  used  to  increase  the  crops,  to  control  the 
clouds,  to  drive  the  showers  into  the  night  and  leave 
the  days  clear.  In  such  case  a  man  might  order  the 
kind  of  weather  he  wants,  about  as  confidently  as  he 
would  order  an  omnibus. 

"Absurd ! "  we  say.  But  so  has  been  said  of  many 
other  things  that  have  since  become  too  trite  to  attract 
attention.  Said  Calonne  to  the  queen,  "  If  what  you 
want  is  difficult,  it  is  done ;  if  it  is  impossible,  it  shall 
be  done  "  ;  —  and  a  good  deal  of  such  has  been  done, 
in  the  century  since.  "The  impossible  comes  to 
pass,"  says  the  proverb ;  and  we  have  seen  so  much 
of  it  come  to  pass  that  we  begin  to  expect  that  the 


THE   DIVINITY   OF    MAN  131 

rest  of  it  will.  So  does  man  show  that  divine 
"dominion"  which  the  old  Psalmist  sang. 

Nor  is  this  dominion  confined  to  the  present,  but 
reaches  backward  through  those  geologic  ages  which 
seemed  so  to  mock  him  with  his  insignificance.  In 
his  coal-fields,  he  cuts  the  forests  of  the  carboniferous 
era,  gathers  into  his  furnaces  the  gigantic  ferns  amid 
which  the  old  megalosauri  fought,  and  brings  back  the 
very  sunbeams  of  bygone  millenniums  to  warm  his 
parlor  and  drive  his  ships.  In  his  quarries  he  harvests 
the  riches  that  those  old  animals  and  ages  were  so 
kindly  accumulating  for  him,  and  gets  far  more  good 
of  them  than  if  he  had  lived  there  himself.  Indeed, 
by  his  learning  he  does  live  there.  The  geologist 
still  fishes  in  the  old  Devonian  seas  and  has  caught 
there  countless  creatures  of  all  kinds.  He  still  sails 
the  older  Silurian  ocean  more  truly  than  the  trilobites 
did,  and  knows  its  inhabitants  much  better  than  they 
ever  knew  themselves.  Man  did  not  lose  those 
geologic  ages,  but  virtually  lives  through  them  all. 

Nor  is  he  confined  even  to  the  earth,  but  explores 
and  exploits  the  heavens.  Through  the  tide,  he  makes 
the  moon  heave  his  ship  over  the  bar  and  turn  his 
mill-wheel  on  many  a  coast.  He  makes  the  sun  raise 
and  ripen  his  crops,  even  paint  his  portraits  and  make 
the  most  perfect  pictures  of  all  sorts  in  the  fraction 


132  THE   DIVINITY   OF   MAN 

of  a  second.  He  has  already  invented  a  steam-engine 
that  runs  by  mere  sunshine,  and  which  P>icsson  said 
would  yet  draw  his  railway-trains,  so  that  he  would 
literally  fulfill  Emerson's  saying  and  hitch  his  wagon 
to  a  star.  He  virtually  makes  the  heavenly  bodies 
come  to  him.  By  his  telescope  he  makes  the  moon 
come  the  most  of  the  way,  and  by  the  spectro 
scope  he  makes  the  sun  come  all  the  way  and  have 
its  gases  analyzed  as  if  he  had  them  in  his  laboratory. 
He  even  weighs  the  sun  and  puts  furthest  stars  in  his 
scales.  He  even  weighs  them  without  seeing  them. 
For  instance,  a  double  star  in  the  constellation  Auriga 
is  so  distant  that  its  two  points  become  to  us  only 
one  two-hundredth  of  a  second  apart,  —  that  is,  nearer 
together  than  a  man's  two  eyes  would  appear  if  they 
could  be  seen  from  a  thousand  miles  away.  Of  course 
no  telescope  can  begin  to  separate  those  stars,  yet  Dr. 
Huggins  says  the  astronomer  easily  does  it  by  his 
spectroscope,  and  tells,  besides,  how  fast  each  is  mov 
ing,  and  how  much  each  weighs.  This  speaks  well 
for  the  power  of  man.  If  he  could  traverse  that  vast 
distance  and  weigh  those  stars  with  his  arm,  how 
mighty  he  would  be  !  But  how  much  more  so  to  sit 
majestically  at  home,  and  weigh  them  with  his  mind, 
without  even  seeing  them  ! 

So  has  astronomy,  which  seemed  to  mock  man  with 


THE   DIVINITY   OF   MAN  133 

his  littleness,  been  showing  his  greatness  instead. 
One  who  can  comprehend  the  heavenly  movements 
need  not  feel  mocked  by  their  magnitude.  To  com 
prehend  meant  originally  to  embrace,  to  include ;  — 
and  mind  does  include  all  it  comprehends.  The 
astronomer  is  greater  than  any  orb  or  orbit  which 
he  can  compute.  The  heavens  are  indeed  high,  but 
man  would  never  have  found  it  out  if  he  had  not 
been  higher.  They  praise,  not  only  their  Creator,  but 
also  the  creature  who  has  explored  them ;  —  and, 
better  than  in  Comte's  day,  "  the  heavens  declare  the 
glory  of  man"  too. 

But  this  work  with  physical  things  does  not  show 
man's  highest  quality.  I  speak  of  them  because  they 
are  what  had  most  mocked  him  with  his  weakness. 
But  his  greatness  is  seen  best  not  in  his  physical  sci 
ences  and  material  inventions,  but  in  his  finer  arts, 
his  thoughts  of  things  invisible,  his  work  with  a  world 
subtler  than  that  of  science,  his  achievements  of  imag 
ination  by  which  he  has  created  ideal  worlds  of  his 
own.  Often  these  ideals  have  been  mightier  than  ma 
terial  things.  The  thoughts  of  Plato  have  outlasted 
the  conquests  of  Alexander  ;  the  arts  of  Greece  have 
had  more  influence  than  all  her  armies ;  the  fancies 
of  Shakespeare  have  been  stronger  than  the  fleets  of 
Elizabeth ;  and  such  is  the  power  of  song  that  Long- 


134  THE    DIVINITY   OF   MAN 

fellow  said  the  hand  of  Burns  still  guided  every  plough 
in  Scotland. 

Such  are  some  of  the  ways  in  which  man  has 
shown  his  power.  These  brilliant  deeds  are  of  course 
the  work  of  comparatively  few  men  ;  but  they  are  the 
work  of  faculties  that  are  common  to  all,  in  one  degree 
or  another,  —  and  hence  are  entitled  to  be  taken  to 
illustrate  human  nature. 

But  diviner  than  even  the  mind  of  man  is  his  moral 
sentiment.  It  begins  narrow  in  the  love  of  the  sexes, 
but  grows  beyond  lovers  to  their  offspring,  with  such 
power  that  the  old  Hindu  poem  said:  "A  mother's 
heart  outweighs  the  earth  ;  a  father's  fondness  goeth 
forth  beyond  the  skies."  It  goes  beyond  the  family, 
to  bind  men  in  societies  and  sacred  movements,  mak 
ing  them  ready  to  give  their  lives  for  a  country  or  a 
cause,  —  as  John  Brown  did  for  freedom,  and  Jesus  for 
human  brotherhood. 

Nor  are  such  sacrifices  confined  to  Christianity. 
Herodotus  tells  how  in  his  youth,  500  years  before 
Christ,  two  Greeks  gave  themselves  as  victims  to  avert 
evil  from  their  country ;  —  and  did  it  not  merely  in  a 
moment's  excitement,  but  voluntarily  made  the  long 
journey  to  the  Persian  capital  expressly  to  be  put  to 
death,  and  then  refused  to  accept  office  from  Xerxes, 
even  to  save  their  lives.  Innumerable  are  those  who 


THE   DIVINITY   OF    MAN  135 

have  given  their  lives  for  a  cause  they  thought 
sacred :  — 

"  Up  from  undated  time  they  come, 
The  martyr-souls  of  heathendom, 
And  to  Christ's  cross  and  passion  bring 
Their  fellowship  of  suffering. " 

Their  fellowship  of  forgiveness,  too.  Xenophon  told 
how  an  unnamed  Armenian  urged  forgiveness  for  the 
king  who  had  condemned  him  to  death,  —  much  as 
Jesus  did  for  his  murderers.  Human  godlikeness  did 
not  have  to  wait  for  Christianity.  Even  so  orthodox  a 
man  as  Father  Taylor,  when  asked  if  any  other  hu 
man  being  had  ever  been  so  good  as  Jesus,  is  said  to 
have  replied,  "  Millions."  All  who  love  show  the  in 
most  essence  of  divinity,  if  "  God  is  love." 

Of  course,  human  nature  shows  qualities  quite  the 
opposite  of  these.  Pascal  said  man  is  both  the  glory 
and  the  scandal  of  the  universe  ;  and  even  in  the  most 
advanced  times  the  scandals  often  outweigh  the  glories. 
Our  great  material  progress  has  not  been  attended  by 
a  corresponding  moral  progress.  With  all  the  immense 
advance  in  science  and  mechanical  art,  there  seems 
little  advance  in  character,  and  one  often  questions 
whether  we  have  any  nobler  men  to-day  than  are  por 
trayed  by  old  heathen  Plutarch  and  in  many  a  page  of 


136  THE   DIVINITY   OF    MAN 

ancient  history.  Mr.  Dooley  thinks  that  true  prog 
ress  would  be  shown  not  by  sky-scraping  buildings,  but 
by  sky-scraping  men.  Our  progress  in  comforts  and 
luxuries  is  nothing  very  divine ;  and  our  power  to  get 
a  great  deal,  and  to  go  everywhere,  is  hardly  so  noble 
as  our  fathers'  power  to  live  nobly  at  home  without 
these.  Mr.  Ruskin  ridiculed  men  for  being  so  eager 
to  travel  fast  from  one  place  to  another,  without  doing 
any  noble  work  in  either,  and  for  boasting  their  power 
to  send  a  telegram  to  India  when  they  had  none  worth 
sending.  He  questioned  whether  even  railroads  had 
blessed  life  to  any  great  extent,  and  pointed  to  one 
that  had  spoiled  a  beautiful  valley  where  Apollo  and 
the  sweet  muses  of  light  used  to  be  seen.  Now,  the 
beauty  is  gone,  and  the  gods  are  gone  with  it ;  —  and 
the  only  gain  is  that  "  every  fool  in  Buxton  can  be  in 
Bakewell  in  half  an  hour,  and  every  fool  in  Bakewell 
in  Buxton."  His  statement  is  extravagant,  of  course, 
yet  tells  the  truth  that  our  material  progress  has  little 
aided  moral  character. 

It  was  well  told  too  in  that  old  French  story  of  the 
huge  visitor  from  Saturn,  who  thought  the  earth  so 
small  that  no  sensible  men  would  live  on  it.  By  means 
of  a  microscope,  he  finally  found  men,  and,  on  learning 
the  wonderful  sciences  and  arts  of  these  "  invisible 


THE    DIVINITY   OF    MAN  137 

insects,"  he  concluded  that  they  must  be  "all  spirit" 
and  lead  a  most  divine  life.  Far  from  it,  one  of  them 
replied ;  the  mass  of  men  were  both  barbarous  and 
foolish ;  —  and  in  proof  of  this  he  referred  to  the  war 
then  going  on  between  Russia  and  Turkey,  where  a 
great  army  wearing  hats  were  righting  another  wear 
ing  turbans.  So,  he  said,  all  over  the  earth,  from 
time  immemorial,  men  had  been  robbing  and  slaying 
each  other  by  the  thousands  in  the  foolishest  quarrels 
over  some  piece  of  land  or  petty  question  of  politics 
or  religion.  Very  idiotic  and  fiendish  it  seemed  to 
that  author.  So  it  did  to  Benjamin  Franklin,  who  soon 
after  wrote  that  other  story  of  an  angel  visiting  earth 
and,  at  sight  of  a  naval  battle  in  the  West  Indies, 
thinking  he  had  been  taken  to  hell  instead.  "  No," 
said  the  guide  ;  "this  is  earth,  and  these  are  men;  — 
devils  never  treat  each  other  in  that  cruel  manner; 
they  have  more  sense  and  more  of  what  men  call 
humanity." 

Doubtless  man  is  not  all  divine.  Byron  called  him 
half  deity,  half  dust.  The  dust  is  apt  to  be  the  more 
conspicuous  half,  too,  and  sometimes  seems  very  poor 
dust.  Oh,  we  can  keep  the  good  old  doctrine  of  de 
pravity.  The  depravity  is  plain  enough,  and  needs  no 
catechism  to  prove  it,  but  is  shown  in  every  newspaper. 


138  THE    DIVINITY   OF    MAN 

It  has  had  its  place,  too,  in  human  development ;  — 
and  man's  worst  passions  were  helpful  in  the  earlier 
stages  of  society.  But  with  progress  they  have  been 
giving  way  to  a  diviner  nature,  as  that  Biblical  story 
told ;  so  that  the  depravity  is  nowhere  "  total,"  as  it 
used  to  be  called.  The  very  calling  it  that  disproved 
it ;  for  if  man  had  been  totally  depraved  he  never 
would  have  found  it  out.  A  thoroughly  bad  man  never 
knows  that  he  is  bad.  As  soon  as  he  sees  that  he  is 
bad  he  has  begun  to  grow  better.  The  doctrine  of 
depravity  was  only  man's  censure  of  his  lower  nature 
by  his  higher,  and  was  proof  that  he  was  leaving  his 
lower  behind.  His  depravity  is  only  the  relics  of  the 
old  animal  nature,  and  does  not  at  all  disprove  his 
divinity. 

Nor  is  the  divinity  any  less  because  so  closely  con 
nected  with  matter.  Indeed,  matter  itself,  as  science 
sees  it  to-day,  shows  rather  divine  qualities.  The  late 
Dr.  Martineau,  criticizing  the  modern  tendency  to  deny 
spirit  and  ascribe  everything  to  matter,  said :  "  But  such 
extremely  clever  matter,  matter  that  is  up  to  every 
thing,  even  to  writing  Hamlet  and  finding  out  its  own 
evolution,"  seems  a  little  too  modest  in  disclaiming 
the  attributes  of  mind.  And  not  only  in  man,  but 
everywhere,  matter  to-day  shows  rather  spiritual  qual- 


THE   DIVINITY   OF   MAN  139 

ities.  "Dead  matter,"  we  used  to  say;  —  yet  it  has 
proved  rather  more  alive  than  spirit  was  once  thought 
to  be.  Hear  science  describe  a  snowflake,  for  in 
stance,  —  so  miraculously  crystallized,  its  molecules 
more  than  you  could  count  in  a  lifetime,  each  hydro 
gen  atom  forever  flying  at  the  rate  of  over  a  mile  in 
a  second,  and  colliding  with  others  several  thousand 
times  a  second,  —  besides  being  perhaps  a  cunning 
vortex-ring  revolving  eternally.  No  wonder  the  wit 
said  science  denied  free  will  to  man  and  gave  it  to 
atoms.  Matter  seems  marvelous  enough.  Or  take 
other  forces  called  physical.  Think  how  electricity 
flashes  through  the  cable,  leaves  the  message  in  Eng 
land  before  the  American  finger  is  off  the  key,  and  is 
in  many  ways  more  wonderful  than  any  ghost  or  god 
of  old  story.  Think  how  light  speeds  more  swiftly 
from  the  stars,  and,  after  a  century's  flight  through 
space,  tells  its  story  so  truly. 

If  man  were  no  more  than  these  things,  he  would 
still  seem  rather  spiritual.  But  he  is  more,  for  he  has 
mastered  them.  Those  atoms  are  coarse  compared 
with  the  thought  that  has  found  them,  and  that  has 
analyzed  movements  which  no  microscope  can  show. 
That  lightning  is  weak  compared  with  the  mind  that 
can  make  it  and  make  such  use  of  it.  That  light. 


140  THE    DIVINITY   OF    MAN 

though  it  would  fly  across  the  continent  before  you 
could  wink,  is  still  sluggish  compared  with  the  man 
who  can  overtake  it ;  —  as  Foucault  did  when  he  timed 
the  flight  of  a  ray  through  his  room,  and  found  it  took 
only  one  thirty-sixth  part  of  the  millionth  of  a  second 
(not  precisely  that,  of  course,  but  somewhere  in  that 
neighborhood).  These  wonders  tell  of  something  in 
man  we  may  as  well  call  spiritual.  And  all  the  more 
spiritual  it  seems  in  those  moral  aspects,  —  love,  de 
votion,  and  readiness  to  die  for  an  ideal.  Tyndall  said 
the  passage  from  brain  to  consciousness  is  unthink 
able  ;  and  perhaps  we  should  add  that  the  passage 
from  brain  to  conscience  is  more  so. 

Man  seems  also  to  share  the  divine  quality  of  infin 
itude.  Unlike  other  animals,  he  cannot  be  satisfied. 
Even  his  avarice  is  infinite.  He  thinks  he  wants  only 
a  few  thousand  dollars,  —  but  he  makes  a  million,  only 
to  be  miserable  until  he  makes  some  more.  Most  of 
his  misery  is  not  because  he  has  so  little,  but  because 
he  wants  so  much.  We  smile  at  that  farmer  who 
always  wanted  all  the  land  that  adjoined  his;  —  yet 
who  would  be  satisfied  with  less  ?  Probably  the 
humblest  man  in  America  would  like  to  own  a  county, 
and  the  country.  But  even  if  he  could  get  the  con 
tinent,  he  would  want  another  ;  —  and  if  he  owned 


THE    DIVINITY   OF   MAN  141 

the  earth,  he  would  still  be  eager  for  the  deed  of  a 
fine  constellation  or  two,  and  for  a  first  mortgage  on 
the  Milky  Way.  His  infinite  avarice  may  not  be  com 
mendable,  but  it  is  only  the  infinite  in  him  coming 
out  in  a  coarse  way,  and  hence  it  is  still  significant 
of  his  greatness.  And  how  often  it  comes  out  in  a 
better  way.  No  knowledge  satisfies,  —  and  the  most 
learned  man  always  feels  the  least  so.  No  moral 
progress  contents,  but  the  good  gained  always  rouses 
a  desire  for  better.  Love,  though  a  giving  instead  of 
a  getting,  grows  by  the  giving.  Juliet  says  to  Romeo, 
"The  more  I  give  to  thee,  the  more  I  have,"  since 
love  is  infinite. 

Man  seems  also  to  show  something  of  the  divine 
attribute  of  indestructibility.  The  servant  in  the  story 
tried  to  slay  a  spirit  by  cleaving  it  with  a  sword  ;  — 
but  thereby  only  made  two  spirits,  each  as  active 
as  the  one  before.  This  is  true  of  many  a  human 
power,  which  is  doubled  by  what  opposes  and  tries  to 
destroy  it.  The  human  spirit  gives,  in  many  ways, 
hints  of  divine  endurance.  At  any  rate,  it  seems 
hardly  logical  to  say  that  invisible  atoms  are  eternally 
active,  but  the  infinite  mind,  which  has  found  and 
measured  them,  ends  in  a  moment ;  —  that  physical 
force  persists  forever,  but  human  love,  which  is  the 


142  THE    DIVINITY   OF   MAN 

mightiest  force  on  earth,  perishes  in  an  instant.  It 
would  seem  more  reasonable  to  suppose  that  the  soul, 
which  has  so  enslaved  the  light  and  the  lightning,  and 
so  mastered  the  marvels  of  matter,  has  possibilities 
as  marvelous  as  any  of  them.  It  would  seem  more 
reasonable  to  trust  that  the  creative  Love,  which  has 
produced  these  loves  of  ours,  will  continue  its  good 
providence  for  them. 


THE    WATER    OF    LIFE 


THE    WATER    OF    LIFE 

MANY  a  town  has  long  taken  its  water  from 
the  river  by  which  it  stands.  But  with  time 
and  growing  population  the  stream  becomes 
polluted,  from  farms,  mills,  factories,  cities,  sewers. 
Then  the  water  problem  becomes  most  important. 
A  large  party  of  citizens  wish  to  purify  the  river 
by  some  system  of  nitration.  This  is  sometimes 
done  with  much  success,  as  by  the  city  of  Hamburg ; 
but  oftener  it  fails,  from  the  great  labor  and  care 
required.  Some  wish  to  go  back  of  the  corruptions, 
and  bring  water  from  the  source  of  the  stream. 
Others  wish  to  bring  it  from  some  good  lake  far 
away.  Many  and  costly  are  the  methods  proposed 
by  the  people.  Yet,  all  the  while,  pure  and  distilled 
water  is  falling  from  the  heavens  above  them  in  every 
shower.  It  bursts  from  the  hillsides  about  them  in 
many  a  spring.  Often  it  lies  even  in  the  sandy  strata 
beneath  them,  a  vast  reservoir  already  filtered,  forever 
refilled,  and  ready  to  supply  the  city  if  only  brought 
to  the  surface. 


146  THE   WATER   OF   LIFE 

Quite  similar  is  the  case  with  what  preachers  call 
"  the  water  of  life."  They  are  wont  to  take  this  from 
the  great  stream  of  Church  teaching  and  tradition, 
which  has  flowed  down  through  so  many  centuries 
like  a  river,  widening  as  it  goes.  This  stream  has 
indeed  been  a  noble  one,  blessing  many  lands  and 
times  ;  and  its  source  in  Jesus'  words  and  spirit  is 
purer  and  more  refreshing  than  the  springs  of  any 
river.  But  it,  too,  has  been  corrupted  in  its  long 
course.  This  is  indeed  a  natural  result  in  all  wide 
historic  movements.  However  purely  such  a  move 
ment  may  begin,  still,  as  it  flows  on,  it  gathers  pollu 
tions.  A  political  party,  for  instance,  starts  with  a 
little  band  of  purest  souls  and  loftiest  principles,  ready 
to  suffer  shame  and  death  for  the  abolition  of  some 
slavery  and  the  establishment  of  some  right.  But  as 
the  movement  extends  and  becomes  successful,  it 
attracts  self-seeking  men  who  value  a  postmastership, 
or  popularity,  above  principles.  The  widening  current 
is  used  by  politicians  to  drive  the  party  "machine" 
or  to  turn  their  own  mills  ;  and,  as  it  flows  onward, 
it  absorbs  many  a  corruption  and  sewerage  of  all 
sorts. 

A  like  result  is  inevitable  in  religious  movements. 
As  they  grow  popular  and  powerful,  they  lose  their 
purity.  Hence,  even  Christianity,  though  so  clear 


THE    WATER    OF    LIFE  147 

and  healthful  in  its  source,  —  as  free  and  refreshing 
as  a  mountain  spring,  —  has  shown  these  changes  of 
the  stream.  In  its  long  course  through  the  foothills 
and  flats  of  history,  it  has  lost  its  freshness.  It  has 
sometimes  spread  and  stagnated  through  malarious 
marshes  of  ignorance  and  folly.  It  has  here  and 
there  been  stopped  by  some  cunning  dam,  which 
has  turned  the  "water  of  life"  into  a  water-power. 
It  has  been  used  to  run  the  machinery  of  some  church, 
to  grind  out  gain  for  some  prince  or  pope,  and  to  float 
the  schemes  of  some  party  or  priesthood.  It  has 
received  the  drainage  of  many  a  foul  field,  and  some 
times  has  been  infected  with  false  and  cruel  teachings 
more  fatal  than  any  bacteria.  In  various  ways,  the 
Christian  stream  has  lost  its  original  purity  and 
healthfulness,  as  really  and  quite  as  much  as  the 
Mississippi. 

Here,  too,  similar  remedies  are  proposed.  Most 
people  favor  filtration.  They  say,  "  Let  us  revise  the 
Confessions  and  Creeds,  repudiate  all  the  unjust  acts 
of  the  Church,  and  strain  out  the  corruptions  as  well 
as  we  can."  Others  wish  to  go  behind  all  the  corrup 
tions,  and  take  the  water  of  life  only  from  its  pure 
source  in  the  early  Church.  Still  others  would  aban 
don  the  Christian  stream  altogether,  and  supply  them 
selves  from  some  other  religion  or  theosophy  or 


148  THE   WATER   OF    LIFE 

philosophy,  from  ancient  India  or  Egypt  or  other  land 
remote  in  time  and  place ;  —  just  as  many  wish  to  get 
the  city  water  from  some  distant  lake. 

Yet,  all  the  while,  the  best  truths  taught  in  all  those 
ancient  religions  and  philosophies  are  still  revealed  in 
modern  life  and  thought,  fresh  as  the  summer  shower. 
Words  and  deeds  of  justice  and  mercy  are  daily  drop 
ping  from  thousands  of  lofty  lives,  like  the  blessed 
rain  from  heaven ;  and  divine  ideals  of  right  are  dis 
tilled  from  the  best  social  atmosphere,  like  the 
morning  dew  from  the  air.  The  real  religion  of  right 
eousness  and  love  is  ever  flowing  forth  through  human 
hearts  and  consciences,  like  springs  from  the  hillsides. 
It  flows  as  copiously  in  modern  as  in  ancient  life,  and 
as  purely  in  America  as  in  India  or  Palestine;  —  just 
as  the  heavens  fill  the  streams  of  Minnesota  with  quite 
as  good  water  as  the  sacred  Ganges  or  Jordan.  Below 
these  local  and  surface  springs  in  daily  experience, 
there  also  lies  a  deep  and  permanent  supply  of  right 
eous  principles,  —  like  a  subterranean  reservoir  of  the 
water  of  life.  It  has  been  gathered  from  the  ex 
perience  of  the  ages,  filtered  by  centuries  of  trial, 
and  stored  up  in  the  deepest  and  best  instincts  of 
human  nature.  It  is  found  under  all  religions,  Chris 
tian,  Hebrew,  or  heathen,  substantially  the  same ;  just 
as  God's  good  water  is  the  same,  whether  drawn  from 


THE   WATER   OF    LIFE  149 

a  Buddhist  spring  or  from  the  sacred  well  of  Jacob 
himself.  The  water  of  life  underlies  us  all,  and,  like 
the  deep  supplies  beneath  many  a  city,  needs  only  to 
be  lifted  to  the  surface. 

Jesus,  indeed,  seems  to  have  taught  something  like 
this,  in  that  famous  talk  at  Jacob's  well  with  the 
woman  of  Samaria.  She,  like  so  many  simple  women 
and  men  then  and  ever  since,  thought  religion  was 
confined  to  a  narrow  name  and  people  and  place.  But 
Jesus,  in  a  few  words  which  Renan  calls  the  best  ever 
uttered  about  religion,  told  her  it  was  world-wide,  and 
that  "neither  in  this  mountain  [of  sacred  Samaria] 
nor  yet  at  Jerusalem"  was  it  any  holier  than  else 
where.  For,  he  added,  "  the  hour  cometh,  and  now 
is,  when  the  true  worshipers  shall  worship  the  Father 
in  spirit  and  in  truth," — or,  as  an  old  manuscript 
reads,  "  in  the  spirit  of  truth."  Worship  was  as  wide 
as  the  spirit  of  truth  ;  and  the  water  of  life  did  not 
have  to  be  sought  in  old  and  sacred  places,  but  was 
welling  up  in  every  honest  soul.  Turning  to  that 
venerable  well  of  Jacob,  from  which  she  was  drawing, 
Jesus  said,  "  Whosoever  drinketh  of  this  water  shall 
thirst  again,"  but  his  only  true  and  lasting  supply 
"  shall  be  in  him,  a  well  of  water  springing  up  unto 
eternal  life."  The  water  of  life  was  not  a  thing  to  be 
borrowed  and  brought  from  any  foreign  or  ancient 


ISO  THE   WATER   OF    LIFE 

source,  but  must  be  found  in  the  depths  of  man's  own 
nature,  "springing  up  within  him." 

"  Springing  up  "  !  The  water  of  life  rises  of  itself ; 
it  does  not  have  to  be  pumped.  This  is  hardly,  as 
yet,  the  prevalent  opinion.  A  Church  with  unnatural 
doctrines  and  artificial  observances,  with  elaborate 
services  and  sensational  preaching,  and  other  prac 
tices  to  frighten  or  excite  men,  sometimes  suggests  a 
pum ping-system  with  laboring  pistons  to  force  piety 
to  an  unnatural  height,  and  with  cunning  valves  to 
keep  it  from  backsliding.  In  his  great  poem,  "  The 
Cathedral,"  Lowell  even  specified 

"That  drony  vacuum  of  compulsory  prayer, 
Still  pumping  phrases  for  the  Ineffable, 
Though  all  the  valves  of  memory  gasp  and  wheeze." 

How  refreshing  to  turn  from  all  such  things  to  Jesus' 
representation  of  the  water  of  life  as  needing  no  arti 
ficial  lifting  or  liturgy,  but  "  springing  up  "  of  itself, 
like  a  natural  fountain,  or  like  those  artesian  wells 
which  are  flowing  in  so  many  lands  and  even  amid  the 
sands  of  Sahara. 

To  obtain  the  largest  flow  may  require  the  patient 
digging  and  drilling  of  deep  thought,  —  a  work  which 
the  Church  sometimes  decries  as  leaving  the  soul 
parched  and  perhaps  to  perish  from  the  fires  below. 


THE    WATER    OF    LIFE  151 

But  the  work  is  often  well  rewarded.  Frenchmen 
toiled  for  years  at  that  famous  well  at  Grenoble,  — 
even  spent  a  whole  year  in  merely  getting  back  the 
broken  drill  that  had  dropped  to  the  bottom.  They 
became  discouraged  and  were  about  to  stop,  in  despair 
of  finding  water.  "  Go  on,"  said  Arago;  "go  on,  and 
you  will  get  it."  So  they  went  on,  until,  one  day,  the 
water  came  spouting  up  through  nearly  two  thousand 
feet,  six  hundred  gallons  a  minute,  and  has  been  flow 
ing  for  sixty  years  since,  not  only  watering  the  town, 
but  warming  the  hospital  from  the  heat  below.  Often 
the  drill  of  deeper  thought,  though  at  first  piercing 
only  dry  rock,  at  length  strikes  the  divine  springs, 
and  finds,  instead  of  infernal  fires,  the  saving  water 
of  life,  not  only  refreshing  the  soul  but  warming  the 
heart.  As  Lord  Bacon  wrote :  "  A  little  philosophy 
inclineth  man's  mind  to  atheism,  but  depth  in  philos 
ophy  bringeth  men's  minds  about  to  religion."  And 
not  only  deep  thinking,  but  deep  feeling  in  some  stir 
ring  experience,  often  opens  these  flowing  wells  of  the 
water  of  life. 

But  they  are  oftenest  found  without  deep  searching, 
spontaneously  flowing    forth  in   daily  experience,  — 
like  the  millions  of  natural  springs  in  all  the  valleys 
and  among  the  hills.    For  Nature  herself  shows  every 
where  this  process  which  Jesus  took  to  illustrate  re- 


152  THE   WATER    OF    LIFE 

ligion.  She  shows  it  not  only  in  her  flowing  fountains, 
but  through  all  the  fields  and  forests,  in  whose  every 
tree  and  bush  the  water  is  of  itself,  all  the  summer, 
"springing  up  unto  life."  She  shows  it  in  all  the 
showers  and  clouds  and  vapors,  whose  waters  have 
risen  miles  above  the  tree-tops,  "  springing  up  "  from 
the  seas  by  the  mere  force  of  the  natural  sunshine. 
The  same  Power  that  works  in  sunshine  and  clouds 
and  trees  works  in  souls,  too.  As  the  seas  beneath 
the  sky,  as  the  sap  within  the  maples,  so  beneath  and 
within  every  man  lies  a  divine  fountain  which,  if  he 
will  but  keep  the  way  open  for  it  by  an  honest  life 
and  a  receptive  spirit,  will  become  "  in  him  a  well  of 
water  springing  up  unto  eternal  life." 


THE    BOOK    OF    JONAH 


THE    BOOK    OF    JONAH 

THE  book  of  "  Jonah  "  is  one  of  the  best  in  the 
Bible,  but  one  of  the  most  abused.  Profane 
people  ridicule  it  without  reason,  and  even 
preachers  pass  by  its  merits  and  rarely  give  it  rightful 
praise.  Both  regard  it  mainly  as  the  story  of  a  fish ; 
and  many  treat  this  story  as  the  last  absurdity,  so  that 
jests  about  Jonah  and  the  whale  are  among  the  stalest 
things  in  speech.  Yet  the  fish  is  a  mere  and  minor 
incident  of  the  book,  neither  mentioned  nor  implied 
except  in  three  short  verses  ;  and  even  these  need  no 
apology,  as  we  shall  see.  The  real  purport  of  the 
work  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  fish,  but  is  its  fine 
lesson  of  forgiveness  and  charity.  The  real  subject 
is  the  impartial  benevolence  and  fatherhood  of  God, 
calling  for  benevolence  and  brotherhood  among  men. 
In  this  teaching  of  charity  the  book  of  "Jonah" 
anticipates  the  best  in  the  New  Testament,  and  is  a 
prophecy  of  Jesus. 

Not  that  Jonah  himself  is  benevolent  ;  but  the 
author  of  the  book  is,  and  teaches  that  God  is  and 
that  men  ought  to  be.  Jonah  himself  is  just  the 


156  THE    BOOK   OF   JONAH 

opposite,  —  unforgiving,  uncharitable,  cruel ;  —  and  it 
is  one  of  the  curiosities  of  religion  that  he  has  been  so 
widely  honored.  For  this  book  hardly  honors  him  at 
all,  but  evidently  aims  to  portray  him  as  false  to  good 
ness  and  to  God.  He  enters  it  impiously  disobeying 
Jehovah,  and,  when  ordered  by  him  to  go  to  Nineveh, 
tries  "  to  flee  "  in  the  opposite  direction,  to  Joppa  and 
thence  by  ship  westward  to  Spain.  He  is  even  so 
poor  a  prophet  as  to  think  that  he  can  thus  sail 
beyond  the  realm  and  reach  of  God,  and  is  twice 
described  as  trying  to  flee  "  from  the  presence  of  the 
Lord."  But  he  is  soon  taught  that  "the  presence  of 
the  Lord"  covers  the  Mediterranean,  too,  —  raising 
against  the  sinner  "  a  mighty  tempest  in  the  sea,  so 
that  the  ship  was  likely  to  be  broken."  After  his 
guilt  is  discovered  by  lot,  he  confesses  and  persuades 
the  sailors  to  save  the  ship  by  casting  him  overboard. 
This  is  the  only  good  thing  told  of  him  in  the  book ; 
—  and  even  this  is  not  much  to  his  credit,  since  he 
repeatedly  shows  a  desire  to  get  rid  of  his  life,  and 
twice  implores  Jehovah  to  take  it.  Jehovah,  however, 
is  merciful,  and  now  saves  and  brings  to  shore  even 
this  poor  wretch  who  has  so  disobeyed  him. 

Yet,  after  all  this,  Jonah  is  no  better,  but  rather 
worse.  He  has  indeed  learned  to  obey  Jehovah,  and 
now  goes  to  Nineveh;  but  he  does  it  in  the  most 


THE   BOOK   OF   JONAH  157 

impious  and  ugly  mood.  He  wants  the  destruction 
of  that  great  city,  with  all  its  120,000  infants ;  and 
the  Lord's  mercy  in  sparing  it  "  displeased  Jonah 
exceedingly,  and  he  was  angry."  He  even  reproaches 
the  Lord  for  saving  it,  and  for  being  "full  of  compas 
sion  and  plenteous  in  mercy."  He  still  hopes  that 
Nineveh  will  be  destroyed,  and  he  goes  out  to  sit  in 
the  suburbs  and  watch.  He  waits  there  in  so  petulant 
a  spirit  that,  at  the  mere  withering  of  the  gourd-vine 
which  the  Lord  had  kindly  raised  to  shade  him,  he 
again  becomes  enraged.  And  when  Jehovah  reasons 
with  him  about  this,  and  asks  if  his  rage  is  right, 
Jonah  impudently  replies  that  it  is  :  "  It  is  right  that 
I  should  be  angry,  even  unto  death."  With  this  curt 
contradiction  of  Jehovah,  the  prophet  makes  his  exit 
from  the  story. 

So  little  is  Jonah  honored  in  this  book.  He  enters 
it  in  disobedience,  he  goes  through  it  in  irreverence, 
he  leaves  it  in  blasphemy.  Unforgiving,  unfeeling, 
caring  for  neither  man  nor  God,  he  is  enraged  at  the 
saving  of  the  city,  and  insists  against  the  Lord  himself 
that  he  is  right  to  be  angry  because  his  little  gourd- 
vine  has  died  and  half  a  million  men  have  not.  Jonah's 
portrait  is  compounded  of  impiety  and  ugliness ;  and 
it  is  very  evident  that  the  author  did  not  in  the  least 
honor  him  or  want  us  to. 


158  THE   BOOK   OF   JONAH 

What  the  book  honors  is  just  the  contrary.  It 
represents  the  Lord  as  reproving  this  inhumanity, 
and  proclaiming  his  own  loving  regard  for  these 
Ninevites  and  their  infants,  even  for  cattle.  Most 
tenderly  Jehovah  speaks  :  "  Should  not  I  spare 
Nineveh,  that  great  city  wherein  are  more  than  six 
score  thousand  persons  that  cannot  discern  their  right 
hand  from  their  left,  and  much  cattle  !  "  In  contrast 
with  Jonah,  the  book  shows  the  benevolence  that  is  in 
God,  and  that  ought  to  be  in  his  prophets.  It  describes 
him  as  "  full  of  compassion,  slow  to  anger,  and  plente 
ous  in  mercy."  It  represents  him  as  forgiving  even 
to  a  degree  beyond  human  rulers,  pardoning  those 
whom  he  had  already  sentenced.  "  God  repented  of 
the  evil  which  he  had  said  that  he  would  do  unto  them, 
and  he  did  it  not."  So  humane  this  God  is  that  he 
revokes  his  own  order,  takes  back  his  own  words, 
almost  humiliates  himself,  in  order  to  save  that  heathen 
city  which  Jonah  wants  destroyed. 

The  book  becomes  still  more  significant  when  we 
see  its  historic  connection.  Scholars  are  now  fairly 
agreed  that  it  was  written  in  the  fifth  century  B.  c., 
and  in  order  to  oppose  the  intolerance  of  the  times. 
That  intolerance  came  rather  late  in  Hebrew  history. 
The  early  Israelites  had  been  fairly  free  from  it ;  for, 
though  later  accounts  represent  them  as  fiercely  exter- 


THE   BOOK   OF   JONAH  159 

minating  the  Canaanites,  the  Bible  contains  abundant 
evidence  that  they  did  no  such  thing,  but  intermingled 
and  intermarried  with  them,  even  adopted  much  of 
their  religion.  For  centuries,  Israelites  take  the 
daughters  of  the  heathen  for  wives,  and  the  very  gods 
of  the  heathen  for  worship.  Even  so  late  and  revered 
a  ruler  as  Solomon  has  many  such  wives,  and  builds 
altars  in  Jerusalem  to  at  least  four  such  gods,  men 
tioned  by  name.  For  several  generations  after  Solo 
mon  the  practice  continues  among  both  people  and 
princes. 

But  with  the  more  definite  development  and  organ 
ization  of  the  religion  of  Jehovah,  this  hospitality  to 
the  heathen  quite  naturally  diminished,  and  sometimes 
changed  to  hatred.  The  prophet  Elijah  is  represented 
as  slaying  the  four  hundred  and  fifty  priests  of  Baal ; 
and  later  prophets  have  much  to  say  against  the  pagan 
nations,  —  Moab  and  Assyria  and  others.  With  the 
conquest  of  Northern  Israel  by  Assyria,  the  hatred  of 
that  nation  naturally  increased,  and  many  a  prophecy 
and  curse  was  uttered  against  its  great  capital,  Nineveh. 
Efforts  also  increased  against  the  heathen  worship  in 
Jerusalem.  At  length,  about  622  B.  c.,  the  reforming 
Jewish  king  Josiah  tried  to  abolish  it  there ;  and  the 
Bible  tells  how  extensively  he  slew  its  priests  and 
destroyed  its  altars,  —  among  them,  those  which  Sol- 


160  THE    BOOK   OF   JONAH 

omon  had  built.  In  connection  with  this  reform  of 
Josiah  was  written  the  book  of  Deuteronomy,  which 
even  orders  each  Israelite  to  slay  his  own  wife  and 
children  and  brother,  if  they  tempt  him  to  heathen 
worship.  "  Neither  shalt  thine  eye  pity,  neither  shalt 
thou  spare ;  thou  shalt  surely  kill  him  ;  thou  shalt 
stone  him  with  stones  that  he  die." 

During  the  Babylonian  captivity, which  began  shortly 
after,  animosities  to  the  heathen  worship  naturally 
grew;  and  when,  about  458  B.  c.,  the  famous  Ezra 
led  a  band  of  the  exiles  back  to  Jerusalem,  he  made 
further  efforts  to  end  it  there.  Among  them,  he 
particularly  opposed  those  intermarriages  with  the 
heathen.  He  tells  how,  at  hearing  of  them  :  "  I  rent 
my  garment  and  plucked  off  the  hair  of  my  head  ;  and 
said,  Our  iniquities  are  increased,  and  our  trespass  is 
grown  up  unto  the  heavens."  Ezra  even  organized  a 
divorce-court  at  Jerusalem,  which  forced  the  Jews  to 
put  away  not  only  their  heathen  wives,  but  "  such  as 
are  born  of  them  "  ;  —  and  there  is  no  hint  that  any 
alimony  was  allowed.  The  Bible  gives  the  names  of 
one  hundred  and  twelve  men  who  thus  cruelly  turned 
off  their  wives,  merely  for  not  being  Jews,  and  in 
order  that  "  the  fierce  wrath  of  our  God  for  this 
matter  be  turned  from  us."  So  severe  had  now 
become  that  hatred  of  the  heathen. 


THE   BOOK   OF   JONAH  161 

But  there  was  of  course  much  friendly  feeling  for 
them  ;  —  and  it  inspired  at  least  two  of  the  books  of 
the  Bible.  One  of  these  is  the  beautiful  little  story 
of  "  Ruth,"  which  is  now  regarded  as  written  in  Ezra's 
time  and  in  order  to  justify  these  marriages  with 
heathen  women.  For  its  heroine,  Ruth,  is  a  heathen, 
and  is  even  one  of  those  "  Moabites "  whom  Ezra 
denounced.  Yet  the  book  not  only  is  the  story  of 
her  happy  marriage  with  an  Israelite,  but  makes  her 
become  thereby  the  ancestress  of  the  glorious  King 
David.  Deuteronomy  had  ordered  that  no  Moabite 
family  could  enter  the  congregation  of  Israel  in  ten 
generations ;  but  this  one  rose  to  the  very  throne  of 
Israel  in  four  generations.  Ezra  declared  that  inter 
marriage  with  the  heathen  had  brought  upon  Israel 
"  the  fierce  wrath  of  our  God  " ;  but  in  this  book  of 
"Ruth,"  that  same  intermarriage  brought  the  sacred 
David  himself  and  the  whole  royal  line  of  Judah  for 
four  hundred  years. 

The  other  and  more  important  book  in  defense  of 
the  heathen  is  this  of  "Jonah,"  supposed  to  have  been 
written  about  the  same  time.  It  took  for  its  subject 
one  of  those  former  Hebrew  prophets  who  had  so 
often  denounced  the  heathen  and  Nineveh ;  and  we 
have  seen  what  an  unfavorable  portrait  it  gave  him. 
But  notice,  on  the  other  hand,  how  favorably  it  por- 


162  THE   BOOK   OF   JONAH 

trayed  the  heathen.  It  showed  these  sailors,  though 
they  were  idolaters  and  "  cried  every  man  to  his  god," 
yet  most  merciful  and  doing  their  best  to  save  Jonah. 
Though  the  sea  "  wrought  and  was  tempestuous 
against  them,"  and  though  they  had  found  that  throw 
ing  him  overboard  would  stop  the  storm,  "  neverthe 
less  the  men  rowed  hard  to  bring  the  ship  to  land, 
but  they  could  not."  These  heathen  were  ready  to 
risk  their  lives  for  another,  and  were  almost  as  anxious 
to  save  that  one  Israelite  as  he  was  to  have  the  whole 
city  of  Nineveh  destroyed.  In  the  same  spirit,  the 
book  shows  these  heathen  Ninevites  as  doing  the  best 
they  knew.  It  tells  how  they  repented  and  "  turned 
from  their  evil  way,"  and  how  they  humbled  them 
selves,  from  the  least  among  them  up  to  the  great 
king  who  left  his  throne  and  laid  aside  his  royal  robe 
and  put  on  sackcloth  and  "sat  in  ashes."  So  does 
the  author  contrast  the  good  heathen  with  this 
Hebrew  prophet  watching  them  from  his  booth, 
wanting  to  see  them  all  perish,  and  angry  at  the 
Lord  for  not  destroying  them. 

The  book  also  gave  a  benevolent  solution  of  an  old 
problem  which  had  much  perplexed  Israel ;  —  namely, 
why  the  destruction  of  Nineveh  did  not  come  when 
Jehovah  had  so  plainly  and  repeatedly  proclaimed  it  ? 
This  work  answers  that  it  was  because  of  the  very 


THE   BOOK   OF  JONAH  163 

goodness  of  Jehovah,  which  made  him  change  his  sen 
tence.  He  was  so  "full  of  compassion  and  plenteous 
in  mercy,"  so  much  kinder  than  men,  that  he  "  repented 
of  the  evil  which  he  said  he  would  do  unto  them," 
reversed  his  own  orders,  and  saved  the  sentenced  city. 
Thus  even  what  seemed  to  others  a  failure  and  false 
hood  in  God  was  made  by  this  author  to  show  his 
goodness  instead. 

So  did  this  book,  five  hundred  years  before  the  New 
Testament,  rebuke  intolerance  and  teach  the  broad 
religion  which  sees  the  heathen  also  as  God's  people 
and  all  mankind  as  one.  It  was  the  same  lesson  which 
Jesus  afterward  taught  in  his  parable  of  the  Jewish 
priest  and  Levite,  full  of  religious  zeal,  but  both  pass 
ing  by  the  wounded  man,  while  the  good  heathen 
Samaritan  stopped  and  helped  him.  It  was  the  same 
lesson  which  Jesus  taught  in  his  parable  of  the  prod 
igal  son,  with  its  rebuke  of  Judaism  as  that  older 
brother  who,  like  Jonah,  was  sullen  at  the  good  father's 
kindness,  and  "  was  angry  "  when  the  other  brother 
was  forgiven.  It  was  the  same  lesson  which  Paul 
taught  when  he  turned  from  Judaism  to  the  gentile 
world,  ridiculed  old  formalities  as  "weak  and  beggarly 
rudiments,"  and  declared  love  "the  fulfilling  of  the 
Law  "  and  the  essence  of  religion.  Even  more  humane 
than  Paul's  God  was  this  one  who  "repented,"  and 


164  THE    BOOK   OF   JONAH 

who  so  loved  the  world  that  he  gave  up  his  own  plans, 
and  took  back  his  own  prophecies,  in  order  to  save  a 
heathen  city.  So  long  before  Christianity  did  this 
work  protest  against  intolerance,  and  preach  the  uni 
versal  fatherhood  of  God  and  brotherhood  of  man. 
In  view  of  its  broad  charity  and  divine  lesson  of  for 
giveness,  no  wise  reader  will  find  any  fault  with  its 
little  story  of  the  fish. 

Is,  indeed,  that  story  any  blemish  on  the  book  ? 
Even  if  the  author  intended  that  fish  for  a  fact,  we 
can  well  excuse  him.  But  why  suppose  he  meant  it 
as  a  fact,  any  more  than  Jesus  meant  the  parable  of 
the  prodigal  son  for  one  ?  Jesus'  parable  is  conceded 
to  be  a  fiction,  told  to  teach  a  religious  lesson.  Why 
not  suppose  that  the  book  of  "Jonah"  is  another? 

But  are  we  sure  that  the  original  book  even  con 
tained  that  story  of  the  fish  ?  Only  those  three  little 
verses  mention  it;  —  and  that  psalm  which  Jonah  is 
said  to  have  spoken  "  in  the  belly  of  the  fish  "  quite 
contradicts  it.  For  that  long  psalm  does  not  contain 
the  slightest  hint  of  any  such  situation,  or  of  any  fish 
at  all,  but  is  simply  a  general  thanksgiving  for  escape 
from  drowning,  and  several  times  speaks  of  the  escape 
as  already  past.  It  represents  the  danger  as  entirely 
over,  the  author  safe  ashore ;  —  and  whatever  poems 
may  have  been  composed  within  a  fish,  this  certainly 


THE   BOOK   OF   JONAH  165 

was  not  one  of  them.  The  poem  is  in  fact  widely 
regarded  as  not  belonging  to  the  original  book  at  all, 
but  as  a  later  addition  ;  and  the  connected  words  about 
the  fish  may  easily  have  been  another,  —  a  mere 
"  deus  ex  machina"  to  bring  Jonah  to  land. 

For  such  a  method  of  escape  has  been  very  frequent 
in  story,  the  world  around  ;  —  from  the  old  Hindu 
tale  of  Saktideva  swallowed  by  a  fish  and  cut  out 
again  unharmed,  to  the  Nova  Scotia  myth  of  the  hero 
carried  to  the  sunset -land  in  a  whale.  Even  our 
Hiawatha  was  swallowed,  canoe  and  all,  by  a  fish,  and 
brought  safely  to  shore  ;  as  Longfellow  told  at  consid 
erable  length,  without  being  blamed  for  it  in  the  least. 
So  "in  many  lands  and  ages,"  says  the  learned  E.  B. 
Tylor,  we  find  "legends  of  a  hero  or  maiden  devoured 
by  a  monster  and  hacked  out  or  disgorged  again." 
So  common  has  been  the  story,  among  peoples  who 
have  never  heard  of  the  Hebrews  or  of  each  other, 
that  it  is  often  interpreted  as  a  Nature-myth  of  sunset 
and  sunrise.  We  need  not  follow  our  imaginative 
solar  mythologists,  to  whom,  one  says,  "all  things 
are  possible "  ;  but  certainly  the  story  was  so  com 
mon  in  antiquity  that  this  author  could  very  naturally 
adopt  it.  Indeed,  right  there  at  Joppa,  where  Jonah 
embarked,  was  often  located  the  scene  of  the  mon 
ster  seeking  to  swallow  Andromeda;  and  ancient 


166  THE    BOOK   OF   JONAH 

writers,  from  Strabo  and  Pliny  to  Josephus,  told  how 
the  marks  of  the  event  were  still  shown  there.  And 
not  far  away  a  Phenician  myth  told  how  Hercules  was 
not  only  swallowed  by  a  fish,  but,  like  Jonah,  survived 
three  days  in  his  stomach ;  —  a  myth  which  Rosen- 
m tiller  and  many  critics  have  regarded  as  the  real 
origin  of  the  story  in  the  Bible. 

Not  only  that  story,  but  probably  the  whole  book 
of  Jonah,  was  intended  as  a  mere  fiction  to  teach  a 
religious  lesson,  —  and  was  no  more  meant  as  literal 
history  than  was  Jesus'  parable  of  the  good  Samaritan. 
The  author  doubtless  knew  that  great  Nineveh,  with 
its  many  and  venerable  gods,  never  was  converted  and 
"  proclaimed  a  fast  and  put  on  sackcloth  "  for  fear  of 
the  God  of  little  Israel.  He  doubtless  knew  that  the 
haughty  monarch  in  that  great  palace,  where  he  was 
feared  and  adored  as  half  divine,  never  humbled  himself 
and  "sat  in  ashes"  at  the  preaching  of  a  poor  Jew 
with  nothing  but  a  gourd-vine  to  cover  him  ;  —  but 
would  have  been  much  more  likely  to  order  such  a 
missionary  sunk  in  the  Tigris.  But  these  fictions  of 
the  book  do  not  at  all  affect  its  religious  value.  It 
teaches  that  divine  lesson  of  forgiveness  and  love  so 
well  that  no  historical  errors  can  harm  it,  no  legendary 
fancies  lower  it  in  the  least. 

The  harm  came  when  the  legend  was  exalted  at  the 


THE   BOOK   OF   JONAH  167 

expense  of  the  lesson.  For  that  divine  truth  of  for 
giveness  was  soon  forgotten,  and  the  book  came  to  be 
remembered  chiefly  for  the  fish.  That  story  fixed 
itself  in  popular  thought,  and  raised  Jonah  into  new 
prominence  and  false  position.  He  came  to  be  re 
garded  as  quite  a  saint,  and  among  the  early  Christians 
that  story  of  the  fish  was  even  taken  as  typical  of 
Jesus. 

It  is  commonly  supposed  that  Jesus  himself  taught 
this ;  but  a  careful  study  of  the  gospels  leads  to  the 
conclusion  that  he  did  not.  The  book  of  Matthew 
does  indeed  make  Jesus  refer  to  the  sign  of  Jonah 
surviving  in  the  fish.  But  in  Luke's  report  of  the 
same  event,  Jesus  makes  no  reference  to  the  fish,  but 
only  to  the  very  different  scene  of  Jonah  preaching  to 
the  Ninevites.  And  Mark,  reporting  the  same  con 
versation,  makes  Jesus  say  nothing  of  any  sign  of 
Jonah,  but  to  declare  explicitly  that  they  shall  have 
no  sign  at  all.  Both  Mark  and  Luke  agree  that  Jesus 
said  nothing  about  the  fish ;  and  Mark  teaches  that 
he  said  nothing  even  about  Jonah.  By  the  usual 
canons  of  criticism,  Mark's  simpler  report  is  to  be 
preferred.  If  so,  then  Jesus  refused  to  appeal  to 
signs  in  Jonah  or  anywhere  else,  but  trusted  more 
divinely  to  the  mere  truth  of  what  he  said  and  did, 
and  was  content  to  leave  it  without  any  of  the  miracles 


168  THE    BOOK    OF   JONAH 

which  less  worthy  teachers  have  used  to  prop  their 
poorer  work.  How  much  more  honorable  to  him  to 
see  it  so,  and  not  to  connect  the  divine  truths  he 
taught  with  that  fable  of  the  fish  !  How  it  dishonors 
Jesus  to  say  he  was  typified  in  any  way  by  that 
ugly  preacher,  who  begins  the  story  disobeying  God 
and  ends  it  blaspheming  him,  —  who  is  eager  for  the 
destruction  of  a  great  city  and  angry  at  the  Lord  for 
saving  it.  Jesus  was  typified,  not  by  the  narrow 
Jonah,  but  by  the  noble  book  which  rebuked  him  and 
taught  Christian  charity  so  many  centuries  before 
Christ. 

For  Jesus  was  true  to  the  spirit  of  that  book.  He 
again  taught  its  lesson  of  a  brotherhood  reaching 
beyond  any  race  or  religion.  He  gave  his  blessings 
not  to  the  followers  of  the  Jewish  or  of  any  special 
faith,  but  to  peacemakers  and  pure  in  heart,  the  meek 
and  merciful,  wherever  they  might  belong.  And  like 
the  Jehovah  of  this  good  book,  Jesus  carried  for 
giveness  to  the  extreme  ;  —  forgave  adulteress  and 
thief,  was  so  forgiving  that  Renan  says  he  had  a 
"divine  incapacity  for  seeing  evil,"  taught  to  forgive 
seven  times  and  seventy  times  seven,  to  love  even 
enemies,  to  turn  the  cheek  when  smitten  and  give 
more  when  stolen  from ;  and  in  the  same  spirit  he 
closed  his  life  by  asking  forgiveness  for  his  own  mur- 


THE   BOOK   OF   JONAH  169 

derers.  Jesus  was  indeed  a  son  and  incarnation  of 
that  God  of  extreme  forgiveness  and  love,  —  and 
taught  that  every  one  should  be. 

Too  often  the  Church  has  forsaken  him  and  followed 
the  intolerant  Jonah  instead.  Tolstoi  says  that  when 
a  Jewish  Rabbi  asked  him  if  Christians  do  turn  the 
cheek  when  smitten,  he  had  nothing  to  reply,  for  just 
then  Christians  were  smiting  the  Jews  on  both  cheeks. 
Smiting  has  indeed  been  made  quite  a  virtue  in  Chris 
tendom.  Jesus'  "Blessed  are  the  peacemakers"  has 
been  drowned  in  the  roar  of  cannon ;  and,  instead 
of  loving  its  enemies,  the  Church  for  centuries  made 
a  business  of  butchering  and  sometimes  of  burning 
them.  It  now  and  then  responded  to  its  Master's 
"  Blessed  are  the  merciful,"  by  the  shrieks  of  women 
tortured  on  the  rack,  and  taught  for  a  thousand  years 
that  most  of  mankind  would  be  tortured  far  worse  and 
forever  after  death. 

Such  days  and  doctrines  are  now  past,  and  Chris 
tendom  is  getting  nearer  to  the  spirit  of  Jesus.  There 
is  still  indeed  a  wide-spread  opinion  that  his  beatitudes 
need  some  amendment ;  that  the  pure  in  heart  shall 
not  see  God  unless  they  have  also  the  proper  theology 
in  their  head,  and  that  the  merciful  shall  not  obtain 
mercy  unless  they  bear  the  Christian  name.  But  men 
are  learning  that  it  is  not  theories  about  Jesus,  but  the 


i;o  THE    BOOK   OF    JONAH 

spirit  of  Jesus,  that  makes  true  Christians ;  and  that, 
if  they  have  that  spirit,  is  makes  no  difference  whether 
they  bear  his  name  or  not.  Indeed,  Jesus  himself  was 
far  too  noble  to  care  for  his  name  ;  and,  according  to 
the  record,  even  rebuked  those  who  should  trust  to 
that,  and  who  should  claim  that  they  had  "  prophesied 
in  thy  name,  and  in  thy  name  cast  out  devils,  and  in 
thy  name  done"  so  many  things.  He  said,  not  call 
ing  him  Lord,  Lord,  but  doing  the  will  of  the  Father, 
brought  them  into  the  kingdom.  Jesus  taught  a  relig 
ion  of  principles  instead  of  names,  and  those  who  are 
true  to  him  will  not  make  it  any  narrower.  They  will 
proclaim  that  uprightness  is  righteous,  whatever  church 
it  comes  in  ;  that  goodness  is  good  and  godlike,  what 
ever  creed  it  grows  with  ;  that  in  every  land  on  earth, 
and  under  every  faith  in  history,  —  Christian,  heretic, 
or  heathen,  —  peacemakers  are  sons  of  God,  forgive 
ness  is  divine,  and  love  is  itself  religion. 

Why  should  doctrinal  differences  make  men  foes  ? 
The  girl  in  the  story  worried  her  brother  and  herself 
about  his  doctrinal  opinions  until  he  lost  patience  and 
said,  "  Oh,  hang  your  theology,  let  us  be  brother  and 
sister !  "  And  would  it  not  be  better  if  the  quarrel 
ing  religions  of  the  world  would  hang  up  their  theol 
ogies  for  a  season,  and  learn  to  be  more  brotherly  and 
sisterly  ?  For  love  is  better  than  any  catechism  ;  — 


THE   BOOK   OF   JONAH  171 

or,  rather,  teaches  the  best.  A  Baptist  clergyman, 
when  asked  how  his  daughter  came  to  marry  a  Cath 
olic,  replied  that  Cupid  had  never  studied  theology. 
But  it  would  be  truer  to  say  that  he  has  studied  it 
better  than  any  of  the  doctors  of  divinity.  Love 
learns  it  best,  at  any  rate ;  and  the  apostle  well  says, 
"  Every  one  that  loveth  is  begotten  of  God  and  know- 
eth  God." 

Jesus  was  wise  in  his  emphasis  of  love,  and  our 
best  men  imitate  him.     Said  Longfellow, — 

"  .    .    .   I  am  in  love  with  love, 
And  the  sole  thing  I  hate  is  hate  ; 
For  hate  is  the  unpardonable  sin, 
And  Love  the  Holy  Ghost  within." 

Longfellow  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and  never  har 
bored  a  bitter  feeling.  When  Poe  was  abusing  him, 
he  was  giving  lectures  in  praise  of  the  other's  poetry ; 
and  when  it  was  proposed  to  make  him  a  visitor  of 
Harvard  College,  the  president  of  the  committee  said, 
"  What  would  be  the  use  ?  Longfellow  could  never 
be  brought  to  find  fault  with  anybody  or  anything." 
His  biographer  says  that  this  was  true,  and  that  Long 
fellow's  whole  life  was  bathed  in  that  sympathy  and 
love  "  which  suffers  long  and  envies  not,  which  for 
gives  seventy  times  seven,  and  as  many  more  times 
if  need  be." 


i/2  THE    BOOK    OF   JONAH 

And  is  not  this  spirit  a  practical  power  in  the 
world  ?  Call  to  mind  the  story  of  Henry  Ward 
Beecher's  lecture  in  Richmond  after  the  war.  There, 
in  the  large  audience,  sat  Fitzhugh  Lee,  several  other 
Southern  generals,  and  many  indignant  people,  curious 
to  hear  the  great  abolitionist  orator,  but  ready  to 
hiss  him.  Calmly  looking  over  the  audience,  Mr. 
Beecher  at  length  said,  "  Is  this  General  Lee  ? " 
The  general  bowed,  silently  and  icily.  "Then,"  said 
Mr.  Beecher,  "  I  want  to  offer  you  this  right  hand, 
which  in  its  own  way  fought  against  you  and  yours, 
but  which  I  would  now  willingly  sacrifice  to  make  the 
South  prosperous  and  happy.  Will  you  take  it,  gen 
eral  ?"  Amid  the  hushed  surprise  of  the  audience, 
General  Lee  arose,  stepped  forward,  and  stretched  his 
arm  across  the  footlights ;  and  as  their  hands  clasped, 
there  arose  from  that  changed  assembly  such  ap 
plause  as  the  old  hall  had  never  before  heard.  This 
abolitionist  leader,  who  had  done  about  as  much  as 
any  man  in  the  country  to  bring  on  the  war  that 
devastated  Virginia,  rode  through  Richmond  next  day 
amid  the  cheers  of  men  who,  but  a  few  hours  before, 
were  almost  ready  to  mob  him. 

Cannot  this  principle  of  brotherhood  and  love  be 
carried  further  in  public  life,  and  be  trusted  more  than 
it  has  ever  been  ?  Was  Jesus  such  a  visionary  in  this 


THE    BOOK    OF    JONAH  173 

matter  as  the  world  and  even  the  Church  has  sup 
posed  ?  He  was  correct  in  it ;  and  the  Sermon  on 
the  Mount,  however  foolish  it  may  seem  to  the  stand 
ards  of  the  street  and  of  the  Church,  is  a  prophecy 
of  the  perfect  State.  Its  principles  will  yet  be  the 
law  of  society  and  of  business.  Poor  Sissy  Jupe, 
when  asked  the  first  principle  of  political  economy, 
forgot  her  lesson  and  stammered  out  in  her  confusion 
that  it  was  to  "do  unto  others  as  you  would  have 
others  do  unto  you."  But  she  was  right ;  —  and  the 
political  economy  of  the  Golden  Rule  is  the  only  one 
that  will  make  society  safe.  It  works  more  wonders 
than  force,  even  among  the  worst  classes.  Cruel  pun 
ishments  have  increased  crime,  while  gentler  methods 
have  diminished  it ;  and  doubtless  the  time  will  come 
when  society  will  treat  adulteresses,  thieves,  and  the 
worst  criminals  more  as  Jesus  treated  them.  Men  are 
to  be  moved,  and  society  reformed,  through  the  heart ; 
and  nothing  touches  and  warms  the  heart  like  forgive 
ness  and  love.  Jesus  was  right  in  making  so  much  of 
them,  and  the  world  will  come  to  it  yet. 

Too  long  the  ship  of  State  has  carried  the  unforgiv 
ing  and  intolerant  spirit  of  Jonah,  —  stirring  up  storms 
worse  than  in  the  story.  Let  it,  like  him,  be  cast 
overboard,  —  with  the  prayer  that  no  monster  may 
interfere  to  save  it.  Then  the  old  miracle  will  be  re- 


174  THE    BOOK    OF    JONAH 

peated,  —  the  waves  will  grow  calmer,  society  safer, 
and  religion  surer.  Through  the  natural  laws  of  the 
world  and  the  natural  love  of  the  heart,  we  shall 
feel  a  higher  Love  infolding  us,  and  find  a  God 
who  does  not  repent  nor  need  to,  but  who  is  forever 
"full  of  compassion,  slow  to  anger,  and  plenteous  in 
mercy." 


THE    BREATH    OF    LIFE 


THE    BREATH    OF    LIFE 

WITHOUT  a  parable  spake  he  not  unto  them," 
and  modern  preachers  might  use  this  method 
more.  Not  only  do  fields,  lilies,  leaven, 
still  remain  as  texts,  but  science  has  unfolded  them 
further  and  found  many  others.  Physical  science, 
however,  does  not  exhaust  their  meaning,  but,  as 
Wasson  suggested,  only  parses  Nature,  —  shows  the 
mere  syntax  of  the  sentence,  while  leaving  it  still  to 
be  read.  Nature's  meaning  has  even  grown  more 
religious  with  advancing  knowledge.  Astronomy  has 
shown  new  harmony  in  the  hymn  which  "  the  morning 
stars  sang  together"  ;  and  its  heavens,  hung  with  suns 
and  systems,  declare  a  far  greater  creation  than  ancient 
psalmists  saw.  The  earth  also  has  everywhere  shown 
new  marvels,  and  revealed  a  rule  more  divine  with 
order.  It  has  shown,  not  only  the  immeasurable  age, 
but  the  immense  advance  of  life,  —  from  Archaean 
algae  to  our  forests,  from  Silurian  sponges  to  human 
society.  As  we  read  in  the  rocks  this  long  record  of 
progress,  geology  seems  theology,  proving  a  providence 
eons  before  Adam. 


i;8  THE    BREATH    OF    LIFE 

The  same  divine  work  continues,  and  issues  new 
Scriptures  every  year.  The  seasons  themselves,  with 
all  events  recurring  so  orderly,  are  revelations  of 
"  the  Law."  Winter  even  sends  stone  tables  of  it,  in 
the  polished  slabs  of  every  pond  and  the  plates  of  each 
frost-crystal,  graven  with  unerring  lines  and  angles 
by  the  same  hand  that  carved  the  tablets  on  Sinai. 
Even  "Psalms"  of  beauty  are  sung  by  the  winter 
storms,  which  so  quickly  create  their  delicate  snow- 
stars  more  wondrous  than  the  constellations,  or  blos 
som  in  dainty  florets  fairer  than  a  lily,  to  fall  by  the 
billion  and  blanket  and  bless  the  earth.  But  spring 
writes  a  still  richer  revelation.  Its  foliage,  diviner 
than  old  folios,  not  only  drapes  the  earth  in  beauty, 
but  purifies  the  air,  and  out  of  poison  creates  both 
breath  and  food  for  man  and  beast.  To  the  thought 
ful  soul,  every  tree  of  the  forest  is  a  New  Testament, 
with  its  leaves  all  proclaiming  the  divine  care.  Each 
flower  of  the  field  illuminates  a  manuscript  of  God. 
Nor  does  autumn  end  the  revelation,  but  brings  a 
better,  declaring  the  endurance  of  life ;  —  for  each 
falling  leaf  uncovers  a  bud,  to  stand  bare  through  the 
blasts  of  winter,  and  yet  to  spring  into  a  new  branch. 
Each  withering  flower  tells  of  more  wondrous  seeds, 
which  can  forsake  their  stem,  be  borne  far  and  buried 
long,  lie  dried  on  a  rock  or  drowned  in  a  river,  be 


THE    BREATH    OF    LIFE  179 

baked  by  summer  heats  or  bear  intensest  cold,  —  and 
still  grow  into  new  flowers  and  fruit.  Life  seems  safe 
enough.  It  sleeps  all  winter,  with  the  ice  for  its 
pillow,  and  with  blizzards  for  its  lullaby ;  but  at  the 
touch  of  the  spring  sun  it  awakes  refreshed,  and, 
singing,  "  O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ? "  goes  out 
to  work  the  miracles  of  another  year. 

So  full  of  suggestions  is  Nature.  Parables  enough 
are  offered  on  every  hand.  As  Emerson  said,  "  What 
is  a  farm  but  a  mute  gospel  ?  " 

Leaving,  however,  these  cheering  phenomena  of 
life  and  growth,  may  we  not  find  lessons  also  in 
Nature's  forbidding  aspects  of  decay  ?  I  venture  to 
choose  one  of  her  destructive  processes,  and  to  take 
up  the  parable  of  the  Breath.  "Destructive,"  —  for 
breathing  is  a  genuine  burning.  It  consumes  fuel  in 
us  as  fire  does  in  our  stoves.  It  takes  the  same 
oxygen  from  the  air,  combines  it  with  the  same 
elements,  evolves  the  same  heat,  and  gives  off  the 
same  products  in  breath  as  in  smoke.  Respiration  is 
a  real  fire.  Still,  may  we  not  find  under  even  this 
destructive  process  some  beneficent  spiritual  law  ? 

We  ought  to,  for  it  is  also  a  most  vital  process. 
"Breath  of  life,"  the  Bible  calls  it;  —  and  life  seems 
more  closely  connected  with  breath  than  with  any- 


i8o  THE    BREATH    OF    LIFE 

thing  else.  Real  life  on  earth  begins  with  breathing, 
ever  depends  on  it,  and  ever  advances  with  its  increase. 
The  lesson  of  respiration  seems  to  be  that  destruction 
does  not  kill,  that  consuming  does  not  destroy,  that 
burning  even  brings  life. 

But  respiration  is  not  limited  to  animals.  It  begins 
in  a  lower,  and  rises  into  a  much  higher  field.  We 
will  try  to  trace  this  burning  breath  through  its  suc 
cessive  stages,  and  to  show  that  everywhere  it  burns 
to  bless,  and  is  indeed  a  "  breath  of  life." 

First,  we  notice  it  in  the  vegetable  world.  For 
even  plants,  besides  taking  food  for  growth,  take 
true  breath  to  burn  out  their  growth.  We  are  wont 
to  speak  of  Moses'  burning  bush  as  a  miracle  unique 
in  history.  But  botanists  say  that  every  bush  on 
earth  is  burning.  Through  its  every  living  cell  that 
fiery  oxygen  works  all  summer.  Even  the  autumn 
colors  are  associated  with  heat.  Whittier  put  good  sci 
ence  into  his  poem  when  he  called  "  yon  maple  wood 
the  burning  bush."  In  certain  processes  the  breath 
and  fire  become  active  enough  to  show  their  heat. 
Such  is  the  case  in  sprouting  seeds.  Such  is  the 
case  in  flowers.  Often  a  single  blossom  produces 
heat  enough  for  the  thermometer  to  show,  while  dense 
clusters  of  them  in  the  Aroideae  sometimes  raise  the 
temperature  five,  ten,  fifteen  degrees,  Sachs  says.  In 


THE    BREATH    OF    LIFE  181 

the  sight  of  chemistry,  flowers  are  all  fires ;  and  one 
great  genus  is  well  named  phlox,  —  flame.  There  was 
fact  enough  in  Hafiz'  fancy  that  roses  were  the  flames 
of  a  burning  bush  ;  and  botany  adds  that  every  bloom 
ing  plant  is  another,  whether  blazing  in  the  cardinal- 
flower  or  only  smoking  in  the  gray  grass-blossoms. 

But,  just  as  in  that  bush  of  old  story,  this  burning 
does  not  harm.  Rather,  it  is  so  helpful  that  the  plant 
dies  without  it,  as  surely  as  a  man  dies  without  air. 
Not  only  does  it  thus  save  life,  but  creates  more. 
Out  of  that  burning  seed  it  brings  a  new  plant.  It 
brings  new  energies,  too.  In  each  cell  the  fire  creates 
force,  just  as  in  the  boiler  of  a  boat.  As  a  result,  the 
cilia  of  some  algae  lash  the  water  like  oars,  the  diatom 
moves  across  the  field  of  the  microscope  like  a  pro 
peller  across  the  lake,  and  the  beautiful  volvox  goes 
rolling  through  the  water  like  the  wheel  of  a  steamer. 
And  out  of  that  warmer  fire  in  the  flower  how  many 
new  creations  come !  One  is  beauty.  The  leaves  are 
refined  to  softer  petals,  grow  radiant  with  gold  and 
purple,  —  and  proclaim  to  us  the  spiritual  law  that  the 
highest  beauty  is  reached  only  through  the  burning 
out  of  our  substance.  The  same  process  brings  sweet 
ness,  too,  turns  starch  to  sugar,  and  loads  the  flower 
with  honey  and  perfume.  It  even  brings  something 
like  love ;  and  the  blossom  becomes  a  real  marriage- 


182  THE    BREATH    OF    LIFE 

bower,  where  parents  join  in  genuine  wedding  and 
give  themselves  for  each  other  and  their  offspring. 
So  the  flower  is  consumed  only  to  rise  again  from  its 
ashes,  and  to  extend  its  life  to  distant  lands  and 
ages. 

Verily,  in  this  familiar  blossom  burning  to  bring 
new  life,  is  not  the  old  miracle  still  done  and  outdone  ? 
The  reverent  soul  hears  the  God,  who  called  to  Moses 
from  the  bush,  still  calling  from  every  calyx,  declaring 
that,  though  he  be  named  a  "  consuming  fire,"  yet  to 
deeper  insight  his  fire  does  not  consume,  but  works 
through  the  vegetable  world  as  very  "  breath  of 
life." 

But  we  see  this  law  clearer  in  its  second  revela 
tion  in  the  animal  world.  Here  breath  is  more  active, 
and  grows  ever  more  so  through  the  rising  animal 
scale.  And  this  deeper  breathing  always  means  faster 
burning.  Analysis  shows,  for  instance,  that  the  breath 
of  an  average  healthy  man  consumes  carbon  at  the  rate 
of  one  hundred  and  seventy  pounds  a  year,  —  literally 
burns  up  within  him  every  month  the  substance  of 
over  a  bushel  of  charcoal.  With  this  increasing  fire 
comes  increasing  warmth.  The  gilled  fish  hardly 
shows  it ;  —  he  cannot  get  much  fire  started  there  in 
the  water.  Even  air-breathing  reptiles,  with  their 
poor  lungs,  get  so  little  draft  that  they  only  smolder, 


THE    BREATH    OF    LIEE  183 

and  we  call  them  cold-blooded.  But  with  better  bron 
chial  flues  and  more  active  breast-bellows  the  fire 
burns  freer  and  the  blood  grows  warmer,  until  it 
reaches  the  high  temperature  of  mammals,  and  still 
higher  of  some  birds.  The  animal  world,  also,  is  all 
burning  bush. 

Here,  too,  the  fire  does  not  consume.  It  does, 
indeed,  waste  our  substance,  so  that  the  animal,  unlike 
the  tree,  soon  gets  his  growth.  Some  poor-lunged 
creatures  are  said  to  lengthen  as  long  as  they  live,  like 
an  elm  ;  but  better  breathers  burn  up  their  accumula 
tions,  and  men  and  birds  keep  but  little  body.  Nor 
do  they  keep  even  that ;  but  it  is  continually  consumed, 
—  several  times  during  our  lives,  the  doctors  say,  — 
muscles,  nerves,  lungs,  heart,  brains,  bones,  and  all. 
But  this  consumption  is  always  restored,  and  does  not 
harm  us  in  the  least.  Rather,  it  is  just  the  thing  that 
keeps  us  alive.  If  we  were  not  thus  perpetually 
destroyed,  we  should  get  sick,  and  die ;  and  the  only 
way  we  can  keep  alive  and  well  is  by  being  annihilated 
every  few  years.  Curiously,  too,  this  destructive 
process  is  just  the  one  which  cannot  be  suspended  at 
all.  Other  functions  may  be  stopped  for  a  season, 
even  the  nutritive  ones.  A  man  can  go  even  without 
food,  for  a  week,  —  for  forty  days,  some  say,  —  but 
not  without  breath  for  five  minutes.  Eating  seems  to 


1 84  THE    BREATH    OF    LIFE 

be  of  quite  secondary  account  in  life.  The  really 
important  thing  is  burning  up.  When  the  fire  goes 
out,  we  die ;  but  so  long  as  it  is  consuming  us,  we 
thrive.  Such  is  the  paradox  and  first  principle  of  this 
mysterious  thing  called  life.  Burning  saves  and  in 
creases  it. 

Increases  all  its  energies,  too.  The  faster  this 
breath  burns,  the  greater  the  activity.  The  tree  has 
roots  for  holding  still,  and  can  hardly  be  moved  without 
dying.  But,  with  better  breath,  roots  go  out  of  fash 
ion,  and  there  come  fins  and  feet  for  roving  and  wings 
for  rising  ;  and  the  more  the  breath,  the  more  the 
motion.  In  contrast  with  forests  fixed  by  the  river 
come  fish  swimming  in  it,  and  amphibians  lifting  them 
selves  out  of  it,  and  better  breathing  quadrupeds 
crossing  the  country ;  while  the  burning  bird  soars 
above  the  forests,  flies  over  lakes  and  mountains, 
makes  the  tour  of  the  State  on  a  summer  morning, 
and,  when  winter  comes,  goes  to  Florida  like  a  gentle 
man.  Such  a  breath  of  life  is  this  fire  in  the  animal 
world. 

But  this  breath  rises  to  a  third  stage  in  human 
arts.  For  man  breathes  more  largely  than  with  lungs ; 
and,  learning  how  to  burn  that  carbon  anywhere,  he 
adds  to  Nature's  slow  fire  within  him  a  much  faster 
one  without.  He  heats  his  hut  and  home  ;  and,  instead 


THE    BREATH    OF    LIFE  185 

of  having  to  migrate  like  an  animal,  he  brings  Florida 
to  his  own  fireside,  and  makes  the  tropics  anywhere 
to  order.  Learning  how  to  make  this  artificial  breath 
ing  taster,  and  fire  fiercer,  he  gains  new  forces  that 
far  outdo  those  of  animals.  Instead  of  crawling  through 
the  country,  like  the  quadruped,  he  makes  this  fire 
carry  him  and  all  his  family  and  furniture  farther  and 
faster.  Instead  of  flying  fifty  miles  for  his  breakfast, 
like  a  bird,  he  sits  still  like  a  lord  and  orders  it,  — 
beefsteak  from  Texas,  rolls  from  Dakota,  an  orange 
from  California,  and  coffee  from  Asia.  By  this  breath 
under  a  boiler,  he  gets  them  brought  so  easily  that 
Mr.  Atkinson  says  a  good  mechanic  in  Massachusetts 
can  get  his  whole  year's  meat  and  flour  fetched  from 
beyond  the  Mississippi  for  one  day's  work.  Sir  Lyon 
Playfair  said  that  a  ton  of  freight  can  be  carried  on 
water  two  miles  by  a  cubic  inch  of  coal. 

Nor  does  man  stop  with  moving  Nature's  products, 
but  makes  better,  by  this  same  principle.  In  his 
manufactures  and  varied  arts,  he  learns  to  consume 
not  merely  a  little  in  the  form  of  food,  like  an  animal, 
but  enormously  in  other  forms ;  —  not  only  acorns, 
but  oaks ;  not  only  fruits,  but  whole  forests  ;  not  only 
a  few  acres,  but  long  ages  of  them  condensed  in 
coal ;  and  not  only  coal,  but  ores  and  rocks  and  the 
original  elements  themselves.  Human  art  becomes 


186  THE   BREATH    OF    LIFE 

a  boundless  burning,  destroying  about  everything  on 
earth. 

Yet  this  burning,  too,  only  helps.  It  turns  the 
forests  into  force,  and  the  whole  carboniferous  era  into 
energy,  —  turns  ores  and  everything  into  something 
better.  It  consumes  only  to  create.  Indeed,  strictly 
speaking,  it  does  not  consume  at  all.  Not  an  atom  of 
carbon  or  anything  else  has  ever  been  destroyed. 
Burning  only  sets  it  free  from  old  forms  to  enter  into 
life  again  ;  and  Nature  is  always  waiting  to  start  it 
into  life,  —  is  all  the  summer  turning  our  smoke  and 
ashes  back  into  new  trees  and  corn.  Food  does  not 
fail,  but  is  growing  more  abundant  and  cheaper  every 
year ;  and  many  farmers  are  praying  for  a  famine  or  war 
or  something  that  will  reduce  the  supply.  Fuel  does 
not  fail.  Professors  predict  that  long  before  the  coal 
gives  out,  they  will  be  able  to  get  heat  cheaper  out  of 
something  else,  or  get  it  for  nothing  out  of  sunbeams. 
Nothing  fails  ;  —  rather,  the  consumptions  are  all 
restored  and  more,  and  the  necessaries  and  luxuries 
are  yearly  more  abundant.  Corn,  clothes,  goods  of 
every  kind,  more  and  more  glut  the  market  and  beg 
to  be  bought.  The  great  social  problem  which  troubles 
us  to-day  is  not,  as  once,  how  to  produce,  but  how  to 
get  the  too  abundant  products  distributed  ;  —  not, 
as  once,  how  to  supply  the  world's  table,  but  how 


THE    BREATH    OF    LIFE  187 

to  pass  the  supplies  that  threaten  to  break  the  table 
down.  Production  is  easy  enough,  and  some  say  that 
overproduction  is  what  ails  us.  The  whole  world,  of 
both  Nature  and  art,  is  as  good  as  the  widow's  cruse 
and  barrel ;  —  even  better,  for  use  only  makes  it  grow 
fuller  and  overflow.  Loaves  and  fishes  and  everything 
else  are  forever  multiplied ;  and  the  fragments  of  the 
feast  are  apt  to  be  more  than  the  first  supply. 

Destroying  things  seems  somehow  to  increase  them. 
Even  the  wasteful  destruction  of  a  conflagration  seems 
to  be  a  sort  of  creative  process.  What  does  a  fire  in 
our  streets  mean  ?  Its  deepest  meaning  is  that  a 
better  building  will  go  up  there.  Chicago  burns  down 
into  higher  blocks  and  more  beauty  and  business. 
The  flames  kindle  also  new  energies  in  the  men 
who  were  burned  out,  and  new  currents  of  sympathy, 
that  run  round  the  world  and  rouse  the  sentiment  of 
brotherhood  in  distant  nations.  Mourn  as  we  may, 
conflagrations  still  add  new  streets  to  our  cities  and 
new  strength  to  our  citizens  and  new  virtues  to 
our  souls.  In  view  of  these  results,  one  is  tempted 
to  ask,  Where  is  the  fire  out  of  which  is  not  born 
more  than  was  burned  ?  So  of  other  great  material 
losses :  they  often  prove  productive,  arouse  men, 
and  add  to  the  wealth  of  the  country.  Consumption 
seems  somehow  to  be  creative,  even  when  it  gets  the 


i88  THE    BREATH    OF    LIFE 

start  of  us  and  runs  wild  in  some  great  calamity.     At 
any  rate,  when  kept  in  control  and  made  regular,  — 
as  in  respiration,  —  this  consumption,  whether  by  fire 
or  other  force,  works  through  the  world  of  industry 
and  material  civilization,  as  the  very  "  breath  of  life." 

But  above  these  material  fields  we  trace  the  same 
principle  through  a  fourth  phase,  in  spiritual  life. 
Thought  is  a  breathing,  ever  inhaling  fresh  truth, 
which  consumes  old  ideas  in  society,  just  as  oxygen 
does  old  cells  in  the  body.  Indeed,  those  arts  we 
have  just  noticed  have  all  come  from  this  mental 
breathing.  How  many  established  opinions  had  to  be 
consumed  to  bring  ease  of  travel !  Once,  even  science 
argued  that  no  steamer  could  ever  cross  the  Atlantic  ; 
and  there  was  a  time  when  everybody  knew  that  steam 
could  not  carry  anything  on  land.  The  first  modern 
who  suggested  such  a  thing  is  said  to  have  been  shut 
up  in  the  Bicetre  for  it,  as  a  lunatic.  Afterward,  the 
Englishman  who  first  advocated  passenger  railways 
was  called  by  the  Quarterly  Review  "beneath  our 
contempt,"  while  the  wise  old  Edinburgh  Review 
said,  "  Put  him  in  a  strait-jacket."  Prudent  men  pre 
dicted  that  railways  would  ruin  the  country  and  kill 
the  people  ;  —  yet  would  not  do  even  that,  for  nobody 
would  use  them,  and  they  never  would  succeed.  One 


THE    BREATH    OF    LIFE  189 

Liverpool  gentleman  was  so  certain  of  this  that  he 
said,  if  trains  ever  reached  a  speed  of  ten  miles  an 
hour,  he  would  eat  a  stewed  engine- wheel  for  break 
fast.  Even  in  Massachusetts  the  Boston  Courier 
once  called  a  proposed  horse  railroad  to  Albany  a 
"  project  which  everybody  who  knows  the  simplest 
rules  of  arithmetic  knows  to  be  impracticable,"  and 
which,  "  if  practicable,  every  person  of  common  sense 
knows  would  be  as  useless  as  a  railroad  from  Boston 
to  the  moon."  So  many  and  so  firmly  established 
ideas  have  been  consumed  in  a  century  in  this  mere 
matter  of  travel.  And  this  is  only  an  illustration  of 
the  consumption  of  old  theories  that  has  been  going 
on  through  the  arts  and  sciences  and  philosophies  in 
all  fields.  See  it  in  politics.  Half  of  legislation  is 
repeal,  —  Buckle  said  the  best  half.  So,  through  all 
fields,  this  spiritual  breath  of  thought  and  feeling  has 
been  burning  fast. 

Yet  here,  too,  it  has  consumed  only  to  create,  and 
been  in  still  higher  degree  the  "breath  of  life."  It 
has  aided  all  those  arts  and  sciences.  It  has  advanced 
society,  too, — just  as  breathing  has  advanced  the 
animal  kingdom,  —  and  has  brought  to  mankind  a 
progress  about  as  great  as  from  mollusks  to  mammals. 
It  has  burned  out  social  wrongs  only  to  bring  right. 
Even  when  the  destruction  has  come  by  the  conflagra- 


190  THE    BREATH    OE    LIFE 

tion  of  revolution,  as  in  France,  it  has  still  blessed. 
See  Taine's  picture  of  society  there,  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  with  a  king  wasting  thirty-six  millions  on  only 
one  of  his  mistresses  ;  with  the  people  starving  to 
death  by  thousands,  and  yet  having  to  pay  four-fifths 
of  their  income  in  taxes  to  support  the  luxuries 
and  vices  of  the  nobles.  The  French  Revolution, 
,  with  all  our  just  blame  of  it,  still  removed  far  more 
wrongs  than  the  Reign  of  Terror  wrought,  and  brought 
to  the  people  a  prosperity  they  never  had  before.  Far 
better  is  it,  of  course,  when  the  political  body  does 
not  allow  effete  evils  to  accumulate  so  that  it  gets  dis 
eased  and  goes  off  in  the  spontaneous  combustion  of 
revolution,  —  but  clears  them  out  as  fast  as  outgrown, 
by  the  regular  breathing  of  reform,  as  in  England. 
But,  whether  slow  or  swift,  the  destruction  has  gen 
erally  blessed,  and  kept  mankind  advancing.  What 
an  advance  history  shows,  from  cannibal  savages  to 
modern  society  feeding  its  hungry  and  founding  hos 
pitals  and  charities  of  a  hundred  kinds  !  What  an 
advance  even  since  our  pious  ancestors  of  last  century, 
when,  Parton  says,  the  best  Christian  in  New  England 
saw  nothing  wrong  in  buying  Negroes  for  rum,  and 
selling  them  for  West  India  molassess  to  make  rum  to 
buy  more  !  \Vhat  a  progress  from  the  days  when 
David  could  slay  a  man  to  steal  his  wife,  and  still  be 


THE    BREATH    OF    LIFE  191 

revered  as  the  most  sacred  psalmist ;  and  when  Sol 
omon,  with  a  whole  regiment  of  wives,  could  be  called 
the  wisest  of  men,  and  be  thought  worthy  to  make 
the  longest  prayer  in  the  Bible  ! 

For  religion,  too,  has  felt  the  effects  of  this  spiritual 
breathing,  and  has  been  advancing  by  it.  Here,  too, 
ancient  ideas  have  been  burning  out  to  bring  better. 
Samuel's  Jehovah,  ordering  innocent  men  slain  like 
mice,  gave  way  to  Isaiah's  God  of  justice  and  to  Jesus' 
God  of  love.  The  Church  did,  indeed,  in  its  unbreath- 
ing  centuries,  fall  far  away  from  Jesus'  lofty  relig 
ion,  and  taught  that  God  would  torture  heretics  here 
after  and  wanted  Christians  to  begin  it  here.  But 
these  barbarities  have  again  been  consumed,  and  have 
given  way  to  a  more  reverent  faith.  The  burning  has 
always  seemed  bad,  and  always  proved  good.  Even 
the  great  conflagrations  in  religion  have  helped  it. 
The  so  censured  skeptics  of  the  eighteenth  century 
abolished  much  bigotry  ;  —  and  even  one  of  the  most 
honored  Oxford  professors  has  declared  that  "Voltaire 
had  done  more  good  than  all  the  Fathers  of  the  Church 
put  together." 

Modern  thought,  with  all  its  destructiveness,  has 
only  been  enlarging  religion.  It  has  swept  away  the 
little  firmament  and  the  creative  week,  only  to  find  a 
creation  eternal  and  infinite,  and  filled  with  an  order 


192  THE    BREATH    OF    LIFE 

diviner  than  Bibles  ever  told.  It  has  swept  away 
certain  supposed  miracles  of  broken  law,  but  only  to 
show  all  the  world  a  better  miracle  of  laws  unbroken. 
It  has  swept  away  the  old  theory  of  a  petty  Providence 
deranging  earth  and  heaven  to  help  a  few  men,  —  but 
only  to  show  an  infinite  and  truer  Providence  helping 
all  by  principles  that  can  be  depended  on.  Instead 
of  fig-trees  blasted,  and  Jordan  ceasing,  and  Red  Sea 
standing,  and  sun  stopping,  and  gravitation  going  to 
wreck,  —  as  if  God  were  gone  and  his  government  a 
sham,  —  we  find  sun  and  seas  and  streams  and  trees 
and  all  things  forever  true,  as  if  God  were  always  here 
and  to  be  trusted.  Old  ideas  of  Deity  have  indeed 
been  destroyed,  but  only  to  show  the  universe  per 
vaded  by  a  Power  more  godlike  than  the  God  of 
theology  ever  was,  more  mighty,  just,  and  merciful. 

Religion  all  remains,  and  broadened  as  never  before. 
Its  old  boundaries  are  getting  wiped  out,  but  only  to 
show  religion  reaching  beyond  them  without  bound. 
We  are  learning  to  see  Holy  Land  not  in  Judea  alone, 
but  wherever  men  have  worshiped.  We  are  learning 
to  hear  divinely  inspired  words,  not  merely  from  a  few 
ancient  prophets,  but  in  every  human  utterance  for 
justice.  We  are  beginning  to  find  a  holy  family,  not 
in  Nazareth  alone,  but  in  every  home  consecrated  by 
love.  We  are  beginning  to  admit  a  miraculous  birth, 


THE    BREATH    OF   LIFE  193 

not  merely  from  Mary,  but  from  every  mother  on 
earth,  with  a  mystery  which  all  our  science  still  leaves 
as  deep  as  that  of  the  hypostatic  union.  We  are 
beginning  to  see  a  real  Son  of  God,  not  in  Jesus  alone, 
but  in  every  peacemaker,  as  Jesus  said ;  and  to  see 
God  dwelling  in  every  one  that  loveth  another,  as  the 
apostle  declared.  We  are  beginning  to  believe  in  a 
real  Deity,  —  not  a  partial  and  poor  one  visiting  earth 
in  a  few  times  and  spots,  to  make  his  saints  despise 
all  who  differed  from  them  ;  but  an  infinite  and  eternal 
One,  enfolding  and  filling  all  things,  ruling  in  all  laws, 
living  in  all  life,  loving  in  all  love,  and  to  be  seen  best 
and  served  best  by  love. 

So  much  higher  and  holier  and  humaner  thought 
has  come  with  the  destruction  of  old  doctrines.  This 
spiritual  breathing  has  advanced  religion  as  much  as 
literal  breathing  has  advanced  animal  life  ;  —  clearing 
it  of  its  old  reptilian  habits,  warming  it  to  more  than 
mammalian  tenderness,  and  lifting  it  like  a  bird  to  sing 
a  sacreder  psalm  of  love  and  trust.  Here,  too,  the 
burning  has  been  a  very  "  breath  of  life  " ;  and  relig 
ion  ought  to  have  learned  ere  this  to  breathe  fearlessly, 
and  let  its  old  forms  be  consumed  as  fast  as  they 
will. 

But  the  Church  has  sometimes  forgotten  this,  and 
has  gone  to  the  unbreathing  vegetable  world  for  its 


194  THE    BREATH    OF    LIFE 

religious  symbols.  The  preacher  has  often  called  the 
Church  a  vineyard,  and  exhorted  his  vines  to  guard 
above  all  things  the  roots  and  leaves  by  which  they 
live  and  grow.  Excellent  advice,  —  so  far  as  religion 
is  a  vineyard,  —  and  we  ought  to  learn  all  that  we  can 
from  the  vegetable  world.  Roots  are  indispensable, 
and  I  protest  against  the  radicalism  that  would  outroot 
any  good  thing.  The  ignorant  servant,  when  asked 
if  he  had  trimmed  the  orchard  as  ordered,  said  he  had 
cut  the  trees  all  down,  and  was  going  to  begin  to  trim 
them  next  day ;  and  some  who  set  themselves  up  for 
reformers  try  to  trim  the  tree  of  life  in  about  the  same 
way.  Roots  teach  us  to  value  and  venerate  the  past, 
and  to  keep  our  vital  connection  with  it.  Leaves 
teach  religion  the  value  of  forms.  To  sweep  away 
religious  customs  and  doctrines  which  men  sincerely 
believe,  and  by  which  they  live,  is  as  ruinous  as  to 
strip  an  orchard  of  its  June  foliage. 

But  these  conservative  lessons  have  their  limits, 
and  even  the  vegetable  world  tells  us  so.  Even  that 
so  necessary  foliage  teaches  us  to  change  religious 
forms  now  and  then.  The  trees  these  autumn  days 
are  shedding  their  leaves  quite  freely,  —  and  seem  to 
tell  the  preacher  to  let  old  beliefs  drop  as  fast  as  they 
die,  and  not  to  spend  too  much  of  his  precious  time 
trying  to  glue  them  on.  Indeed,  their  falling  is  the 


THE    BREATH    OF    LIFE  195 

very  sign  of  life.  The  live  tree  lets  them  go.  When 
your  bare  orchard  shows  a  branch  keeping  them  on  in 
January,  what  does  it  mean  ?  The  leaves  clinging 
there  tell  you  that  the  branch  is  dead.  The  dried 
forms  rustling  on  some  branches  of  the  religious  tree 
often  seem  to  be  saying  something  like  that.  Life 
would  cast  them  off,  and  without  waiting  for  new 
ones.  That  timid  maxim  —  not  to  let  anything  go 
until  you  have  something  better  to  put  in  its  place  — 
is  mocked  by  all  the  trees,  which  let  their  whole  liturgy 
go  without  the  hope  of  getting  another  till  May. 
These  October  maples  and  mountain-sides,  blazing  in 
a  bonfire  which  goes  out  to  leave  them  bare  till  spring 
brings  better,  tell  religion  to  drop,  as  fast  as  they  are 
outgrown,  even  the  forms  that  have  served  it  best,  and 
to  trust  the  good  Providence  which  made  them,  and 
which  will  make  more  when  needed.  Even  the  vine 
yard  teaches  this. 

But  religion  is  higher  than  a  vineyard,  and  should 
find  its  best  symbols  in  that  higher  life  which  burns 
itself  out,  not  in  October  alone,  but  in  every  breath, 
and  which  lives  by  so  doing.  Not  leaves,  but  lungs, 
bring  the  advanced  physical  life ;  and  not  the  leaves 
of  Bibles  or  of  any  books,  but  the  breathing  of  our 
own  thought  and  love,  brings  the  real  spiritual  life. 
For  spirit,  in  a  score  of  languages,  is  well  named  from 


196  THE    BREATH    OF    LIFE 

breath  ;  and  inspiration,  in  both  etymology  and  true 
theology,  means  breathing  in,  ever  freshly,  from  the 
infinite  atmosphere  of  God  that  infolds  us. 

Religion  ought  to  beware,  and  not  let  its  lungs  get 
diseased.  For  confinement  in  close  walls,  where  ven 
tilation  is  feared  like  vice,  and  where  even  the  truth, 
by  being  breathed  over  and  over  again,  soon  loses  its 
vitality,  has  the  usual  result,  —  develops  consumption. 
It  locks  the  religious  lungs  in  spiritual  tuberculosis ;  — 
although,  as  is  usual  with  consumptives,  the  invalid  is 
sure  that  nothing  ails  her,  mistakes  paleness  for  piety, 
and  the  hectic  flush  of  a  revival  for  religious  health. 
In  such  cases,  the  medical  advice  is: — "Ventilate 
your  abode  or,  better  yet,  move  out  of  it,  change  your 
climate,  try  some  other  creed ;  and,  best  of  all,  live  out 
under  the  open  sky,  rough  it,  start  your  lungs  again, 
and  breathe  God's  living  air  as  you  were  created 
to  do." 

It  seems  hard  to  give  up  doctrines  that  have  cost 
us  much.  Some  saints  are  like  the  asthmatic  patient 
who  said  he  had  worked  so  hard  to  get  that  breath  in 
that  he  did  not  mean  to  let  it  go  again.  But  life  con 
sists  in  letting  it  go  and  getting  another,  and  so  on 
forever,  without  any  fear  of  the  consequences.  The 
fear  that  a  new  thought  may  injure  religion  is  like  the 
fear  that  a  new  breath  may  injure  our  tissue.  Wisdom 


THE    BREATH    OF    LIFE  197 

says,  "  You  had  better  take  it,  and  leave  the  care  of 
the  tissue  to  the  Providence  that  always  sees  to  its 
repair."  All  that  is  really  alive  and  worth  living,  in 
our  beliefs  and  bodies  alike,  will  not  be  harmed. 
Only  the  effete  and  hurtful  will  be  burned  out,  and 
they  will  bring  new  warmth  and  life  in  the  process, 
and  will  be  replaced  by  better. 

Let  religion,  then,  breathe  away,  and  continue  to 
enlarge  its  lungs  and  elevate  its  life.  And  when,  in 
its  rising  life,  the  roots  of  the  vineyard  are  succeeded 
by  feet  that  carry  faith  somewhat  beyond  the  old 
theological  trellis,  —  or  even  by  wings  that  lift  it  high 
enough  to  overlook  the  Christian  fence  and  see  that 
other  fields  are  filled  and  flooded  with  the  same  light 
and  life  of  God,  —  let  the  sight  be  welcome  and  be 
sung  with  new  joy.  Religion  ought  to  be  like  Shelley's 

lark,  that  through  the  deep  blue 

"  Wingeth, 
And  singing  still  doth  soar,  and  soaring  ever  singeth  "; 

or  like  that  other  poet's  bird,  whose  voice 

"  Came  quickening  all  the  springs  of  trust  and  love, 
Dropping  its  fairy  flute-notes  from  above,  — 
Fresh  message  from  the  Beauty  Infinite 
That  wraps  the  world  around,  and  fills  it  with  delight." 

Breath  brings  its  best  lessons  to  private  life.  It 
rebukes  greed,  and  bids  us  burn  out  our  gains  gen- 


198  THE    BREATH    OF    LIFE 

erously.  Gain  is  good,  but  must  be  followed  by  giving, 
as  eating  by  breathing,  if  we  would  rise  above  vegeta 
bles.  Indeed,  our  gains  have  to  be  given  away,  to  get 
the  good  of  them.  Miserliness  is  very  near  to  misery, 
as  even  etymology  teaches.  The  wise  preacher  ad 
vocated  foreign  missionary  contributions,  —  since,  he 
said,  if  they  were  of  no  help  to  the  heathen,  they 
greatly  helped  the  Christian  contributors  at  home. 
Giving  does  enrich  the  giver,  whether  it  enriches  any 
one  else  or  not.  Beneficence  is  the  bank  that  pays 
the  best  interest  on  deposits,  and  it  pays  back  in 
better  coin  than  was  put  in.  Our  proverbs  have  well 
declared  that  the  best  way  to  keep  what  we  get  is  by 
giving  it  away  in  some  good  cause. 

This  truth  of  external  possessions  is  still  truer  of 
ourselves.  They,  too,  must  be  given  away,  in  order 
to  be  kept,  or  even  to  be  found  at  first.  "  The  life  of 
life  is  when  for  another  we're  living,"  says  a  poet ;  and 
another  tells  of  one  to  whom  love  was  the  first  waking, 
— "The  past  was  a  sleep,  and  her  life  began."  Love, 
whether  of  a  person  or  a  cause,  is  indeed  the  highest 
form  of  the  breath  of  life.  It  consumes  as  nothing 
else  can,  wastes  with  self-sacrifice  and  sorrows,  yet 
only  to  lift  to  larger  life,  to  bless  with  new  powers  and 
higher  happiness.  Selfishness  is  as  fatal  to  the  soul 
as  holding  the  breath  is  to  the  body.  Burning  our- 


THE    BREATH    OF   LIFE  199 

selves  out  in  sacrifice  for  something  is  the  only  way 
to  keep  the  heart  warm  and  the  soul  alive.  This  sav 
ing  of  our  selves  by  consuming  them  is  the  deepest 
lesson  of  the  breath.  This  is  the  central  lesson  in 
Jesus'  religion  also,  and  is  summed  in  his  saying, 
"  Whosoever  shall  lose  his  life  shall  preserve  it." 

And  does  not  breathing  give  hint  that  life  shall  be 
preserved  ?  Why  assume  that  death  ends  us,  when 
it  is  the  essence  of  every  breath  and  the  very  thing 
that  keeps  us  from  ending  ?  What  if  body  must  be 
destroyed  ?  It  has  been  destroyed  several  times 
already,  and  the  loss  has  always  been  bringing  new 
life.  And  what  if  we  are  doomed  to  such  a  future  as 
our  good  Calvinistic  brethren  prescribe  for  us  ?  It 
would  indeed  be  a  hopeless  case  if  we  were  not  des 
tined  to  eternal  fire  of  some  kind  ;  for  that  is  the  only 
way  to  keep  growing.  The  lesson  of  breath  is  not 
fear  of  either  burning  or  burial,  but  faith  in  things 
that  may  survive  both.  It  teaches  more  faith  in 
human  life,  which  so  endures  through  physical  destruc 
tions  and  grows  by  them.  It  teaches  more  faith  in 
human  love,  which  is  a  deeper  breath,  burning  out 
our  lives  only  to  bless  them.  It  teaches  more  faith 
in  the  creative  love,  which  breathes  through  ours,  and 
consumes  only  to  enlarge  us.  Through  this  divine 
fire,  still  burning  in  every  bush  to  bring  blossom  and 


200  THE    BREATH    OF    LIFE 

fruit ;  burning  better  in  our  bodies  to  bring  life,  and 
better  still  in  our  minds  to  bring  nobler  thoughts, 
and  best  of  all  in  our  hearts  to  bring  higher  loves  and 
hopes  ;  —  there  seems  to  come  a  voice  bidding  us 
trust,  not  only  while  bodily  life  lasts,  but  beyond. 
"  He  who  died  at  Azan "  bade  his  friends  mourn 

not :  — 

"  For  death, 

Now  I  know,  is  that  first  breath 
Which  our  souls  draw  when  we  enter 
Life  which  is  of  all  life  center." 


THE    SIN    IN    A    CENSUS 


THE    SIN    IN    A    CENSUS 

IT  is  a  suggestive  fact  that  the  only  public  evil 
charged  to  Satan  in  the  Old  Testament  is  the 
taking  of  a  census.  His  work  with  Job  is  only 
personal,  —  is  hardly  even  sinful,  since  it  is  done  at 
the  suggestion  of  the  Lord.  But  when  Satan  appears 
in  this  other  passage  and  moves  David  to  "number 
Israel,"  it  is  so  great  a  sin  that  the  Lord  sends  a 
severe  pestilence  to  punish  it.  He  even  sends  an 
angel  to  destroy  Jerusalem,  and  above  Mount  Zion 
men  see  "  the  angel  of  the  Lord  stand  between  the 
earth  and  the  heaven,  having  a  drawn  sword  in  his 
hand."  So  great  is  the  danger  that  David  seeks  to 
avert  it  at  any  cost ;  —  buys  the  spot  for  "six  hundred 
shekels  of  gold,"  builds  an  altar  and  offers  a  sacrifice. 
Then  at  length  the  Lord  relents,  answers  "  from 
heaven  by  fire  upon  the  altar,"  and  makes  the  angel 
"  put  up  the  sword  again  in  the  sheath."  And  this 
altar  is  of  such  importance  that  its  site  afterward 
becomes  that  of  Solomon's  Temple.  So  closely  does 
the  Bible  connect  even  the  sanctuary  and  worship  on 


204  THE   SIN    IN    A   CENSUS 

Mount  Zion  with  the  work  to  atone  for  the  great  and 
fatal  sin  of  a  census. 

We  need  not  insist  upon  the  accuracy  of  the  report. 
Census  reports  are  not  expected  to  be  accurate ;  and 
there  is  evidence  enough  that  this,  like  most  of  them, 
is  exaggerated.  For  if  we  turn  back  from  this  story 
in  "Chronicles"  to  the  earlier  account  of  the  same 
event  in  "  Samuel,"  not  only  are  the  census  returns 
found  much  smaller,  but  this  "  six  hundred  shekels  of 
gold"  drops  to  "fifty  shekels  of  silver,"  while  both 
the  sword  of  the  angel  and  the  supernatural  fire  from 
heaven  disappear  altogether.  Even  Satan  disappears 
entirely, — and,  instead  of  him,  it  is  "the  Lord"  who 
"moved  David"  to  "number  Israel."  But  though 
the  evil  is  so  reduced  in  the  older  account,  it  is  bad 
enough.  There,  too,  the  census  brings  the  same 
pestilence  with  its  seventy  thousand  deaths. 

And,  however  contradictory  the  reported  figures  or 
facts,  the  story  itself  is  clearly  true.  For  not  only 
Israel,  but  every  good  movement,  must  beware  of 
pride  in  numbers,  and  trust  only  to  the  truth  of  its 
principles.  Whenever  a  nation  or  denomination  for 
gets  this,  and  begins  instead  to  be  vain  of  its  size  and 
to  think  of  its  census,  it  falls  into  fatal  sin.  When 
its  leaders,  instead  of  aiming  at  justice  and  right, 
begin  to  "number"  their  following,  Satan  is  always 


THE   SIN    IN   A   CENSUS  205 

there,  urging  them  to  it,  and  rejoicing  in  his  suc 
cess.  The  pestilence,  too,  is  sure  to  come.  How 
ever  slow  and  insidious,  it  still  spreads,  infecting  souls, 
corrupting  character,  diseasing  society.  The  avenging 
angel  stands  with  his  sword  drawn,  certain  to  strike 
if  not  averted.  And  the  averting  penitence  and  sac 
rifice  which,  giving  up  shekels  and  show  and  the 
desire  to  "number,"  returns  to  the  trust  in  righteous 
ness  alone,  builds  ever,  as  in  the  old  story,  the  best 
religious  altar,  and  leads  to  the  temple  of  the  Lord 
and  the  truest  worship. 

Scripture  often  rebukes  the  trust  in  numbers.  A 
fine  text  says  :  "  The  Lord  did  not  choose  you  because 
ye  were  more  in  number  than  any  people,  for  ye  were 
the  fewest  of  all  people."  This  power  of  the  few  is 
one  of  the  commonplaces  of  history.  It  was  well 
proved  by  these  Israelites.  Though  "  the  fewest  of 
all  people,"  and  though  so  often  defeated,  dispersed, 
oppressed,  suppressed,  —  they  yet  outlasted  all  their 
enemies  and  conquered  their  conquerors.  Their  tem 
ple  and  sacred  city  fell  before  great  Rome,  —  yet  their 
Jehovah  soon  superseded  Jove,  and  his  worship  spread 
through  the  Roman  empire.  They  supplied  to  Chris 
tendom  even  its  Scriptures.  While  the  Church  was 
cursing  Jews,  it  used  Jewish  Psalms  for  its  praise  and 
prayers,  and  revered  Jewish  writings  as  the  only 


206  THE   SIN    IN   A   CENSUS 

"word  of  God."  It  even  declared  a  Jewess  to  be  the 
"  mother  of  God,"  and  still  praises  the  son  of  a  Jewess 
as  "very  God  of  very  God." 

This  little  people  have  also  shown  their  power  in 
secular  life,  in  spite  of  their  long  persecutions.  Re 
leased  at  length  from  the  Ghettos,  they  have  rapidly 
advanced  to  the  front  ranks,  not  only  in  finance,  but 
in  literature,  learning,  even  politics,  —  almost  making 
panics  in  some  of  the  great  powers  of  Europe.  Even 
England,  after  banishing  them  for  centuries,  and  after 
abusing  them  in  many  a  fiction,  from  Marlowe's 
"  Barabbas  "  and  Shakespeare's  "  Shylock  "  to  Dickens' 
"  Fagin,"  had  to  see  one  of  these  despised  people 
become  a  powerful  British  Peer  and  even  Prime  Min 
ister.  Leroy  Beaulieu  happily  pictures  Lord  Beacons- 
field  idolized  not  merely  by  the  people,  but  in  "the 
parlors  of  Piccadilly  "  and  by  "  the  Mite  of  the  most 
aristocratic  nation  of  the  globe,"  and  seeing  "from 
the  top  of  his  statue,  on  primrose  day,  the  hands  of 
the  most  titled  ladies  spread  at  his  feet  baskets  of  his 
favorite  flower."  Sometimes,  too,  they  had  to  submit 
to  Disraeli's  sarcastic  words :  —  as  when  he  said  all 
Christendom  is  worshiping  a  Jew  as  its  God,  and  all 
Catholics  are  adoring  a  Jewess  besides ;  or  when  he 
told  of  the  persecution  of  the  Hebrew  by  "  that  un 
grateful  Europe  which  owes  to  him  the  best  part 


THE   SIN    IN   A    CENSUS  207 

of  its  laws,  a  fine  portion  of  its  literature,  all  its  re 
ligion."  So  widely  was  little  Palestine,  with  its  poor 
territory  and  "fewest  of  all  people,"  to  conquer  the 
world. 

Little  Greece  was  perhaps  to  conquer  more.  Its 
handful  beating  back  the  hosts  of  Persia  was  symbol 
of  its  far  greater  victories  that  still  continue.  Its 
influence  has  lived  on,  while  far  more  populous  nations 
have  vanished  like  the  summer  flies.  Said  Sir  H.  S. 
Maine :  "  A  ferment  spreading  from  that  source  has 
vitalized  all  the  great  progressive  nations  of  man 
kind";  and  "except  the  blind  forces  of  Nature, 
nothing  moves  in  this  world  which  is  not  Greek  in 
its  origin."  It  is  interesting  also  to  notice  that 
Macaulay's  famous  fancy  of  some  future  traveler 
finding  only  a  few  ruins  of  London  and  of  the 
great  Saint  Paul's,  was  first  used  by  him  to  illustrate 
the  duration,  not  of  the  Catholic  Church,  but  of 
Athens,  whose  "  influence  and  glory  will  still  survive, 
fresh  in  eternal  youth,  exempt  from  mutability  and 
decay." 

Christianity,  too,  so  despised  in  Paul's  day,  well 
illustrated  his  words  that  God  hath  "chosen  the  weak 
things  of  the  world  to  confound  the  things  which  are 
mighty,"  and  "  things  which  are  not,  to  bring  to 
nought  things  which  are."  So  in  Christendom,  much 


208  THE    SIN    IN   A   CENSUS 

of  the  best  and  widest  work  has  come  from  the  small 
est  peoples.  Think  of  little  Holland,  barely  visible 
on  a  student's  globe,  and  with  much  of  it  repeatedly 
buried  by  the  sea,  yet  rapidly  rising  from  such  dis 
asters,  and  from  its  long  oppression  by  mighty  Spain, 
to  a  front  rank  in  agriculture,  trade,  art,  learning, 
liberty,  and  religion.  De  Amicis  says  it  became  "  the 
adopted  country  of  science,  the  Exchange  of  Europe, 
the  station  for  the  commerce  of  the  world."  At  the 
beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century,  says  Taine,  "in 
culture  as  well  as  in  the  arts  of  organization  and  gov 
ernment,  the  Dutch  are  two  hundred  years  ahead  of 
the  rest  of  Europe."  At  that  time,  says  Hallam, 
"Holland  was  pre-eminently  the  literary  country"; 
and  Niebuhr  calls  a  chamber  in  the  University  of 
Leyden  "  the  most  memorable  room  in  Europe  in 
the  history  of  learning."  Thorold  Rogers  tells  how 
Holland  "taught  the  western  nations  finance,"  "com 
mercial  honor,"  "  international  law,"  and  religious 
tolerance.  Says  this  Oxford  professor  of  history : 
"  For  a  long  time  that  little  storm-vexed  nook  was  the 
university  of  the  civilized  world";  and  "to  the  true 
lover  of  liberty,  Holland  is  the  Holy  Land  of  modern 
Europe." 

Nor  are  towns  to  be  measured  by  their  size.    W.  S. 


THE    SIN    IN   A   CENSUS  209 

Landor  enthusiastically  wrote  of  Florence  :  "  A  town, 
so  small  that  the  voice  of  the  cabbage-girl  in  the 
midst  of  it  might  be  heard  at  the  extremes,  reared 
within  three  centuries  a  greater  number  of  citizens 
illustrious  for  their  genius  than  all  the  remainder  of 
the  continent"  in  two  thousand  years.  In  our  own 
land,  the  little  village  of  Concord  contained  within  a 
short  distance,  on  a  single  street,  not  only  the  man 
who  was  to  feed  the  country  with  the  Concord  grape, 
but  Hawthorne  and  the  Alcotts  and  Emerson,  who 
have  fed  the  higher  wants  of  the  world  still  more 
widely.  Emerson  himself  used  to  expose  the  fallacy 
of  trusting  in  numbers.  Said  he  :  "  The  truth,  the 
hope  of  any  time,  must  always  be  sought  in  the  minor 
ities  " ;  "  The  founders  of  nations,  the  wise  men  and 
inventors  who  shine  afterward  as  their  gods,  were 
probably  martyrs  in  their  own  time  "  ;  "  All  history  is 
a  record  of  the  power  of  minorities,  and  of  minorities 
of  one."  Carlyle  grimly  answered  from  across  the 
sea,  with  unspeakable  scorn  for  the  judgment  of  major 
ities,  and  for  the  political  system  which  counts  a  fool's 
vote  as  good  as  a  seer's,  the  meanest  wretch  equal  to 
"  Socrates  or  Shakespeare,  and  Judas  Iscariot  to  Jesus 
Christ." 

Without  going  to  any  such  extreme,  we  can  keep 


210  THE    SIN    IN    A   CENSUS 

the  truth  that  the  popular  vote  or  verdict  is  not  the 
one  to  seek  for.  F.  D.  Maurice  said  he  had  been  in 
the  minority  all  through  this  life,  and  hoped  he  should 
be  in  the  next.  Perhaps  it  is  better  not  to  care 
whether  we  are  or  not ;  but  to  cease  from  counting, 
and  to  remember  the  Scripture  lesson  that  it  is  Satanic 
to  "number  Israel." 

The  important  thing  wanted  is  simply  to  stand 
for  truth  and  rectitude.  This  is  also  taught  in  the 
fine  Biblical  story  of  Gideon.  That  leader,  with  the 
common  notions  about  numbers,  gathered  a  great 
army  to  oppose  the  invading  hosts  of  Midian.  But 
the  Lord  told  him  to  cut  it  down,  —  to  let  all  leave 
who  wished.  Most  of  them  left,  and  thus  reduced 
the  army  to  ten  thousand.  But  the  Lord  did  not 
want  even  that  number.  They  are  "  yet  too  many," 
said  he,  and  ordered  Gideon  to  reduce  them  again. 
This  time  he  was  told  to  test  them  by  upright  atti 
tude  ;  —  to  bring  them  to  the  water  and  reject  "  every 
one  that  boweth  down  upon  his  knees  to  drink,"  like 
brutes,  but  to  keep  those  who,  with  more  erect  body, 
sipped  from  their  hands.  Nearly  all  failed  in  this 
test ;  and  less  than  a  hundredth  part  of  the  original 
army  remained  as  the  Lord's  elect.  Even  these  were 
not  to  fight  in  any  worldly  way,  but  to  leave  all  their 


THE   SIN    IN   A   CENSUS  211 

weapons  behind,  to  take  only  trumpets  in  their  hands, 
and  lights  concealed  in  pitchers.  So  they  did, — • 
simply  "  blew  the  trumpets  and  brake  the  pitchers," 
showed  the  light,  and  shouted,  "  The  sword  of  the 
Lord !  "  By  this  method  alone  these  three  hundred 
men  turned  to  confusion  and  flight  that  vast  array  of 
Midianites,  who  were  "  like  grasshoppers  for  multitude, 
and  their  camels  without  number  as  the  sand  by  the 
seaside." 

This  story  also  may  be  overcolored,  but  it  is  cor 
rect.  The  true  army  of  the  Lord  always  leaves  be 
hind  those  who  are  cowardly  or  unwilling.  It  still 
further  rejects  all  who  bow  themselves  down  in  any 
brutal  or  base  fashion,  and  counts  as  his  elect  only 
those  who  keep  the  manly  attitude,  upright  with 
integrity  and  honor.  And  these  do  not  fight  with 
worldly  weapons,  but  only  blow  the  trumpet  of  truth, 
and  break  the  old  pitchers  and  prejudices  so  as  to  let 
the  light  shine  out.  For  light  is  always  the  true  "  sword 
of  the  Lord,"  and  conquers  by  its  own  power.  Again 
and  again  in  history  have  a  little  band  of  men,  with 
truth  alone  to  help  them,  vanquished  all  opponents. 
It  is  so  in  science,  —  and  Copernicus  conquered  the 
Church.  It  is  so  in  morals,  —  and  Garrison  won  the 
victory.  It  is  so  in  religion,  —  and  Christ  will  yet 


212  THE   SIN    IN    A   CENSUS 

conquer  Christendom.  For  though,  in  days  of  dis 
couragement,  men  may  think 

"  Truth  forever  on  the  scaffold,  Wrong  forever  on  the  throne, 
Yet  that  scaffold  sways  the  future,  and,  behind  the  dim  un 
known, 

Standeth  God  within  the  shadow,  keeping  watch  above  his 
own." 

Men  who  stand  erect  for  truth  and  right  need  never 
count  their  company,  but  can  be  assured  that,  how 
ever  weak  they  seem,  they  have,  as  their  allies,  time 
and  eternity,  the  universe  and  God. 


THE    RISE    AND    FALL    OF 

SATAN 


THE    RISE    AND    FALL    OF 

SATAN 

IT  is  widely  assumed  that  Satan  appears  often  in  the 
Old  Testament,  and  notably  in  its  opening  story  of 
Eden.  Yet  one  has  only  to  read  that  story  to  see 
that  it  does  not  mention  him  or  contain  the  slightest 
reference  to  him  or  to  any  being  like  him.  It  makes 
the  temptation  come  from  one  of  those  serpents  to 
which  the  ancient  East  ascribed  so  much  cunning, 
and  it  gives  no  suggestion  of  any  worse  agent.  As 
Professor  C.  C.  Everett  recently  wrote,  "there  is  no 
hint  of  a  devil "  in  that  story  ;  and  the  notion  that  its 
serpent  is  a  demon,  or  is  possessed  by  one,  "  finds  no 
justification  "  there. 

Nor  does  Satan  appear  in  the  Biblical  narrative  for 
ages  after  Eden.  There  is  no  sign  of  his  presence 
during  the  thousands  of  years  from  Adam  to  Moses, 
nor  in  all  the  writings  ascribed  to  Moses.  The 
Pentateuch,  though  tracing  so  many  evils  and  their 
causes,  never  refers  one  of  them  to  Satan's  agency. 
The  long  and  elaborate  '-'Law,"  though  professing  to 


216         THE   RISE   AND   FALL   OF    SATAN 

tell  all  that  religion  needed  to  know,  does  not  once 
hint  of  his  existence. 

No  more  does  the  Biblical  history  or  other  writing 
for  many  generations  after.  Satan  is  not  so  much 
as  mentioned  in  the  long  history  of  Joshua,  or  of  the 
two  centuries  of  Judges,  or  of  the  four  hundred  years 
of  Kings,  down  to  the  end  of  their  rule  and  the  destruc 
tion  of  Jerusalem.  He  is  not  once  mentioned  in  any 
of  the  other  literature,  on  to  the  Babylonian  exile. 
The  kingdoms  of  both  Israel  and  Judah  had  run  their 
course  and  come  to  an  end ;  the  sacred  Jerusalem  and 
its  temple  had  risen,  reached  their  highest  glory,  and 
fallen;  —  but  Satan  had  not  yet  been  discovered.. 
The  famous  religious  leaders,  from  Moses  and  Samuel 
and  David  and  Solomon  and  Elijah  and  Elisha,  on  to 
the  great  prophets,  Amos  and  Hosea  and  Micah  and 
Isaiah  and  Jeremiah  and  Ezekiel,  had  lived  and  taught 
and  passed  away ;  —  but  not  one  of  them  had  left  a 
word  about  Satan  or  the  devil  or  a  demon  or  any  such 
being. 

But  during  the  exile  in  Babylonia,  the  belief  in  such 
a  being  gradually  grew  among  the  Jews.  For  there 
they  came  in  contact  with  the  Zoroastrian  or  Mazdean 
teaching  that  the  rule  of  the  world  was  not  mono 
theistic  and  single,  as  their  best  prophets  had  taught, 
but  divided  between  a  good  God  and  an  evil  Power  at 


THE    RISE   AND    FALL   OF    SATAN          217 

enmity  with  him.  This  new  doctrine  was  thus  not 
only  forced  upon  their  notice,  but  was  especially 
attractive  to  them  at  that  time,  when  their  troubles 
had  so  increased,  and  the  very  land  and  temple  of 
God  had  been  conquered  by  the  heathen.  The  prob 
lem  of  evil  naturally  became  prominent  in  their 
thoughts ;  and  it  seemed  to  find  its  easiest  solution  in 
that  Mazdean  doctrine  of  an  evil  Power  opposed  to 
God.  This  doctrine  was  indeed  resisted  by  the  best 
minds  among  them ;  —  and  in  protest  against  it,  the 
second  Isaiah,  the  great  Jewish  prophet  of  the  time 
of  the  exile,  makes  Jehovah  say :  "  There  is  none 
besides  me ;  I  am  the  Lord,  and  there  is  none  else. 
I  form  the  light  and  create  darkness ;  I  make  peace 
and  create  evil ;  I,  the  Lord,  do  all  these  things." 
Still,  in  spite  of  such  protests  from  great  prophets,  the 
doctrine  grew  that  the  Lord  did  not  "  do  all  these 
things,"  but  that  evil  was  caused  by  that  other  Power 
at  enmity  to  him. 

This  evil  Power  soon  took  also  that  Hebrew  name 
which  has  since  become  so  familiar.  In  the  Mazdean 
sacred  books,  the  hosts  of  evil  were  sometimes  called 
"  the  opposition,"  or  adversary  ;  and  the  Jews  adopted 
the  same  name,  translating  it,  however,  into  their  own 
Hebrew  term,  "the  Satan"  Its  use  with  the  article 
shows  that  it  was  not  at  first  a  proper  name ;  but  it 


218         THE   RISE   AND    FALL   OF    SATAN 

soon  came  to  be  such,  and  to  mean  a  personal  opposer 
or  adversary. 

Such  was  the  beginning  of  both  the  idea  and  name 
of  Satan.  It  was  so  late  in  Biblical  literature  that  it 
appears  in  only  three  passages  in  the  Old  Testa 
ment.  The  most  important  of  these  is  in  the  book 
of  Job,  which  is  now  regarded  by  scholars  as  written 
in  that  Babylonian  exile,  and  which  treats  that  same 
problem  of  evil  then  so  pressing.  The  book  naturally 
introduced  this  new  "  Satan  "  as  the  bringer  of  evil 
upon  Job  ;  —  but  it  also  shows  how  little  the  idea  of 
him  had  then  developed.  For  this  Satan  of  the  book 
of  Job  is  not  yet  a  rival  of  Jehovah,  or  even  opposed 
to  him,  but  is  only  his  innocent  agent.  Satan  appears 
here,  not  at  all  as  an  infernal  being,  but  in  heaven, 
"  before  the  Lord,"  in  "  the  presence  of  the  Lord,"  at 
a  meeting  of  "  the  sons  of  God,"  as  if  one  of  them. 
He  goes  out  to  bring  various  evils  upon  Job;  —  but 
only  by  the  Lord's  permission,  and  in  order  to  test 
Job.  These  evils  come,  not  from  Satan,  but  from  the 
Lord  himself,  —  as  Job  also  declares,  "Shall  we  re 
ceive  good  at  the  hands  of  God,  and  shall  we  not 
receive  evil  ?  "  Satan  is  only  an  officer  of  Jehovah's 
court ;  and  M.  Reville  well  compares  him  to  the  pros 
ecuting  attorney  in  our  courts,  appointed  to  try  men 
and  search  out  their  faults.  That  is  all  that  Satan  is 


THE    RISE   AND    FALL   OF    SATAN          219 

in  this  book,  —  the  prosecutor  in  Jehovah's  court, 
mercilessly  questioning  Job's  righteousness,  and,  like 
any  district  attorney,  trying  to  make  out  the  worst 
case  against  him  ;  but  showing  no  further  enmity 
toward  him,  and  none  at  all  toward  the  human  race, 
nor  toward  Jehovah.  As  Professor  Everett  says : 
"  The  Satan  of  the  book  of  Job  is  not  at  all  Satanic, 
in  the  later  meaning  of  that  term  ;  he  is  still  an  angel ; 
and  in  no  sense  is  he  a  tempter."  He  is  only  the 
official  accuser  in  the  court  of  the  Lord. 

This  also  appears  in  the  rather  innocent  name  by 
which  this  Hebrew  "  Satan  "  is  translated  in  the  old 
Greek  Septuagint,  — "  DiabolosT  This  word  is  quite 
interesting,  since  from  it  has  come  the  Latin  Diabohis, 
the  Italian  Diavolo,  the  Spanish  Diablo,  the  French 
Diable,  the  German  Teufel,  the  Dutch  Duivel,  and 
the  English  Devil ;  —  all  words  with  very  bad  mean 
ing.  But  the  bad  meaning  is  mostly  of  later  growth, 
and  the  original  Diabolos  meant  only  an  accuser,  or, 
at  worst,  a  false  accuser. 

Besides  this  passage  in  Job,  there  are  in  the  Old 
Testament  two  others,  and  only  two,  in  which  Satan 
is  mentioned.  One  is  in  the  book  of  Zechariah,  where 
he  stands  by  the  high-priest,  "to  be  his  adversary." 
It  seems  to  have  been  much  the  same  office  which  he 
has  in  Job  ;  — although  Satan  is  here  more  unjust  in 


220         THE    RISE   AND    FALL   OF    SATAN 

it,  so  that  the  Lord  rebukes  him,  as  he  did  not  there. 
The  other  passage  is  in  Chronicles,  a  work  written 
some  two  centuries  later,  and  one  of  the  latest  in  the 
Old  Testament.  It  is  especially  interesting  in  show 
ing  how  Jewish  thought  had  then  changed,  so  as  to 
ascribe  to  this  Satan  a  particular  act  which  had  been 
ascribed  before  to  Jehovah  himself.  This  act  was  in 
moving  David  to  number  Israel.  The  older  account 
in  the  Bible  (2  Sam.  24:  i)  had  laid  this  to  Jehovah, 
and  said  :  "The  anger  of  the  Lord  was  kindled  against 
Israel,  and  he  moved  David  "  to  the  numbering.  But 
this  later  account  (i  Chron.  21  :  i),  written  after  the 
belief  in  Satan  had  come,  lays  it  to  him  instead,  and 
says :  "  Satan  stood  up  against  Israel,  and  provoked 
David  to  number  Israel."  So  far  had  the  change  of 
thought  now  gone,  —  even  substituting  Satan  for  the 
Jehovah  of  the  older  writing.  But  the  change  went 
no  further  here ;  and,  except  in  these  three  late  pas 
sages,  Satan  is  not  mentioned  in  the  whole  Old  Tes 
tament. 

Still  less  is  he  mentioned  under  the  name  of  "  the 
devil."  The  word  "devils,"  although  occurring  four 
times  in  our  common  English  translation,  was  an  error, 
and  the  Revised  Version  has  removed  it.  But  of  "the 
devil,"  or  any  being  like  him,  even  our  English  Old 
Testament  has  not  a  word  to  say.  Its  nearest  approach 


THE    RISE   AND    FALL   OF    SATAN         221 

to  him  is  in  those  three  late  passages  about  Satan, 
which  still  leave  him  innocent  and  not  yet  an  enemy 
of  God. 

But  in  the  thought  of  the  Jews  he  soon  became 
such  an  enemy,  —  the  cause  of  all  evil,  and  hence  of 
everything  which  they  did  not  like.  They  now  began 
to  ascribe  to  Satan  that  temptation  in  Eden ;  and  it 
was  at  length  so  taught  in  their  apocryphal  "  Book  of 
Wisdom,"  a  century  or  so  before  Christ.  They  also 
began  to  assign  to  him  subordinate  agents,  or  demons. 
Such  soon  abounded  in  Jewish  thought,  as  the  cause 
of  troubles  of  every  kind,  especially  of  insanity  and 
nervous  diseases.  Even  so  cultivated  a  writer  as 
Josephus  taught  this  possession  by  them,  and  told 
how  he  had  himself  seen  a  magician  heal  a  person  so 
possessed  and  draw  the  demon  out  through  the  man's 
nostrils.  Still  more  would  the  common  people  show 
such  beliefs. 

It  would  of  course  be  quite  natural  for  Jesus  him 
self  to  share  this  belief ;  —  and  if  he  did  not,  his 
followers  would  be  sure  soon  to  teach  that  he  did. 
Hence  he  is  very  frequently  connected  with  Satan  and 
demons  in  the  thought  of  the  early  Church.  The 
apocryphal  Gospels  tell,  for  instance,  how  even  in  his 
infancy  his  swaddling-clothes  drove  from  another  boy 
"a  great  multitude  of  devils  "  "in  the  shape  of  crows 


222         THE    RISE   AND    FALL-  OE    SATAN 

and  serpents " ;  how  from  the  boy,  Judas  Iscariot, 
Satan  once  came  "  in  the  form  of  a  dog  " ;  how  he 
once  took  possession  of  a  woman  and  made  her  go  out 
and  "throw  stones  at  people."  Such  stories  were  of 
course  told  in  the  New  Testament,  too.  A  large  part 
of  Jesus'  miracles  there  are  in  casting  out  these  devils 
from  the  sick  and  insane.  Not  only  these,  but  Satan 
himself  continually  appears  ;  —  from  the  early  chapter 
of  Matthew  where  he  comes  three  times  tempting 
Jesus,  on  to  the  closing  book  of  Revelation,  which 
has  so  much  to  say  about  him  and  his  all-pervading 
power  in  the  world. 

So  curious,  in  this  respect,  is  the  contrast  between 
the  Old  Testament  and  the  New.  That  word  "  devil," 
which  does  not  occur  once  in  the  former,  occurs  more 
than  fifty  times  in  the  latter,  and  more  than  seventy 
times  if  we  include  its  plural  form.  The  greatest 
prophet  of  the  Old  Testament  had  utterly  denied  such 
a  being,  declaring  that  Jehovah  does  all  things,  evil 
as  well  as  good,  and  that  there  is  none  else  besides 
him  ;  but  the  New  Testament  puts  this  Satan  beside 
him,  and  sometimes  triumphant  against  him,  as  even 
"the  prince  of  this  world." 

The  Bible  also  shows  this  same  contrast  in  regard 
to  the  connected  doctrine  of  eternal  punishment ;  — 
for  this  is  inseparable  from  Satan  and  was  "  prepared 


THE    RISE    AND    FALL   OF    SATAN          223 

for  the  devil  and  his  angels."  This  eternal  punish 
ment,  whether  of  him  or  of  men,  is  taught  only  in 
the  New  Testament,  and  never  in  the  Old.  Our 
English  Old  Testament  has  indeed  many  repetitions 
of  the  word  "  hell " ;  but  the  Revised  Version  has 
removed  most  of  them,  and  ought  to  have  removed 
the  rest.  For  the  original  Hebrew  word  is  always 
"  Sheol,"  with  no  such  meaning,  nor  any  very  bad  one. 
Into  this  "  Sheol  "go  at  death,  not  only  the  wicked, 
but  the  good.  The  Bible  says  that  Jacob  and  Joseph 
are  going  there,  that  Job  prays  to  be  there ;  and  the 
Psalmist  says  that  not  only  he  and  all  men  shall  be 
there,  but  Jehovah  himself.  "  If  I  make  my  bed  in 
Sheol,  behold,  thou  art  there."  With  so  many  Biblical 
saints  and  authors,  and  even  Jehovah,  in  Sheol,  it  cer 
tainly  was  no  bad  place.  Scholars  say  that  in  the 
early  Jewish  thought  it  was  no  place  of  punishment 
at  all,  —  but  only  the  underworld,  where  all  alike 
went  at  death. 

But  along  with  the  growing  doctrine  of  Satan,  a 
part  of  this  Sheol  became  a  place  of  punishment  for 
his  followers.  It  was  so  pictured  about  a  century 
before  Christ,  in  the  apocryphal  book  of  Enoch,  which 
tells  of  its  terrible  lake  of  fire  and  brimstone,  and  of 
the  tortures  therein.  Such  beliefs  continued  to  spread 
among  the  Jews,  were  naturally  ascribed  to  Jesus, 


224         THE   RISE   AND    FALL   OF   SATAN 

and  were  elsewhere  clearly  taught  in  the  New  Testa 
ment.  Not  indeed  by  most  of  the  authors,  —  and 
Paul  in  his  Epistles  furnished  no  texts  for  eternal 
torment.  Such  texts  are  nearly  all  confined  to  the 
two  books  of  Matthew  and  Revelation,  —  but  are 
there  many  and  plain.  In  Matthew,  for  instance, 
Jesus  orders  sinners  "  into  the  eternal  fire  which  is 
prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels."  In  Revelation, 
that  lake  of  fire  and  brimstone  is  asserted  five  times ; 
and  we  are  told  that  its  inmates  shall  "  have  no  rest 
day  and  night,"  but  "the  smoke  of  their  torment 
ascendeth  up  forever  and  ever."  So  far  does  the  New 
Testament  carry  this  doctrine  which  the  Old  had 
utterly  ignored  or  even  denied. 

But  these  doctrines  were  carried  much  further  by 
the  Church,  afterward.  Nearly  all  the  Church  Fathers, 
and  authorities  for  more  than  a  thousand  years  after, 
expatiated  more  and  more  on  that  eternal  torture. 
Even  infants,  if  not  properly  baptized  or  elected,  were 
consigned  to  it ;  —  from  the  words  of  Augustine,  who 
declared  that  all  such  descended  into  "everlasting 
fire,"  on  to  the  American  "  Day  of  Doom,"  which 
most  graphically  pictured  Christ  condemning  infants 
to  "hell,"  and  which  Professor  Tyler  says  was  read 
for  more  than  a  century  as  "  the  one  supreme  poem 
of  Puritan  New  England."  That  "  lake  of  fire  "  within 


THE   RISE   AND    FALL   OF    SATAN         225 

the  earth  became  a  common  subject,  not  only  of 
sermons,  but  of  innumerable  church  paintings  and 
sculptures  and  books.  Even  so  late  as  1851,  Dr. 
G.  S.  Faber's  book  on  "  The  Many  Mansions  in  the 
House  of  the  Father  "  tells  how,  after  the  judgment, 
the  earth  is  to  be  remade.  Its  surface,  "beautiful 
beyond  description,"  is  to  become  "the  home  of  the 
redeemed " ;  while  within  it  "  shall  roll  an  ignited 
ocean  of  liquid  fire,  two  thousand  miles  in  depth,  the 
peculiar  residence  of  the  wicked."  For  such  suffer 
ings  beneath  their  feet  would  not  at  all  interfere  with 
the  happiness  of  the  redeemed.  This  curious  doc 
trine  has  been  taught  repeatedly  ;  —  from  the  Church 
Father  Tertullian,  who  wrote  how  he  should  "  rejoice  " 
and  "laugh"  in  seeing  "illustrious  kings  groaning 
there,"  on  to  our  great  Jonathan  Edwards'  words,  that 
"the  sight  of  hell-torments  will  exalt  the  happiness 
of  the  saints  forever." 

Along  with  this  doctrine,  that  of  Satan  also  contin 
ued  to  grow,  and  he  soon  became  more  prominent  in 
Christian  thought  than  Jehovah  himself.  Theology 
taught,  for  more  than  a  thousand  years,  that  he  had 
gained  possession  of  the  whole  human  race  by  Adam's 
fall,  and  that  even  Christ's  atonement  had  been  to 
redeem  the  race  from  Satan,  rather  than  to  satisfy 
God,  as  modern  preachers  teach.  Nor  did  even  that 


226         THE    RISE   AND    FALL    OF    SATAN 

redeem  all  the  race,  but  the  whole  heathen  world 
remained  in  Satan's  hands.  Even  among  Christians 
he  was  ever  present  and  all-powerful.  "  In  the 
cathedrals,"  says  Andrew  D.  White,  carved  devils 
"clamber  upon  towers,  prowl  under  cornices,  peer  out 
from  bosses  of  foliage,  perch  upon  capitals,  nestle 
under  benches  " ;  while  "  above  the  main  entrance, 
the  most  common  of  all  representations  shows  Satan 
and  his  imps  taking  possession  of  the  souls  of  men, 
and  driving  or  dragging  them  into  the  flaming  mouth 
of  hell."  The  worship  also  largely  regarded  Satan. 
Sermons  and  prayers  were  to  oppose  him,  sacraments 
and  ceremonies  to  exorcize  him,  and  the  chief  object  of 
religion  was  to  escape  him.  He  was  a  prominent  figure 
in  the  miracle-plays,  and  in  the  lives  of  all  the  saints. 
He  was  seen  in  life  everywhere,  and  his  fiends  were 
innumerable.  They  invaded  homes  as  incubi  and 
succubi,  and  so  left  an  ever-multiplying  progeny. 
Johannes  Wierus  wrote  that  in  his  day  the  demons 
numbered  7,405,926,  and  were  still  increasing.  They 
were  so  many  that  one  of  them  said,  "  If  all  the  Alps 
were  divided  among  us,  we  should  have  but  a  pound 
apiece."  Burton,  in  his  "  Anatomy  of  Melancholy," 
said  that  the  air  was  fuller  of  them  than  of  flies  in 
summer ;  and  Leo  Suavius  that  it  was  as  full  as  of 
snowflakes  in  a  winter  storm.  They  were  powerful, 


THE    RISE   AND    FALL   OF   SATAN         227 

too ;  and  even  so  late  and  learned  a  writer  as  Bishop 
Bossuet  said  "  a  single  devil  could  turn  the  earth 
round  as  easily  as  we  turn  a  marble." 

Satan  was  hardly  less  active  in  the  Protestant 
church.  Luther  saw  him  everywhere,  and  his  "Table- 
Talk  "  has  a  long  chapter  on  "  the  devil  and  his 
works."  He  says  Satan  brings  hail  and  lightning,  is 
"the  cause  and  author  of  plagues,"  and  "produces  all 
the  maladies  which  inflict  mankind."  He  saw  Satan 
even  in  his  aches  and  dreams,  in  the  flies  lighting 
on  his  book,  and  in  the  rats  disturbing  his  sleep. 
Indeed,  he  saw  so  much  of  Satan  that  he  partly  out 
grew  his  fears,  and  tells  how  he  was  one  night  awak 
ened  by  a  noise  in  the  cloisters,  but,  perceiving  that  it 
was  only  the  devil,  calmly  went  to  sleep  again.  But 
not  less  did  Luther  fight  against  him  ;  and  he  once 
said,  "  I  should  have  no  compassion  on  these  witches  ; 
I  would  burn  all  of  them."  Such  beliefs  lasted  long; 
and  even  John  Wesley  not  only  advocated  the  per 
secution  of  witches,  but  taught  that  Satan  and  his 
agents  often  brought  diseases  and  even  earthquakes. 
So  in  America,  Increase  Mather,  in  the  same  year  in 
which  he  became  president  of  Harvard  College,  pub 
lished  a  collection  of  marvelous  deeds  of  devils,  and 
taught  that  thunder-storms  came  from  Satan. 


228         THE    RISE    AND    FALL   OF    SATAN 

But  to-day,  what  a  change !  Such  beliefs  have 
retired,  until  the  college  president  who  should  hold 
them  would  hardly  escape  a  lunatic-asylum.  Accord 
ing  to  medieval  thought,  the  witches'  Sabbath  could 
be  held  only  in  the  night,  and  with  the  dawn  the 
demons  vanished.  That  seems  to  be  the  law,  —  they 
live  only  in  darkness.  With  the  growing  light  of 
recent  times,  the  devil  and  all  his  agents,  who  were  so 
active  among  the  apostles  and  for  fifteen  hundred 
years  after,  have  been  vanishing,  —  and  among  intel 
ligent  men  have  become  about  as  non-existent  as  they 
were  in  the  Old  Testament. 

It  is  a  change  which  we  need  not  at  all  lament. 
Aside  from  all  the  terror  and  suffering  which  that 
belief  brought,  it  caused  immense  injustice  and  cruelty. 
Think  of  the  wrong  which  it  brought  for  centuries 
against  the  insane, — and  only  to  make  them  more  so. 
Even  the  medicine  it  gave  them  was  bad  enough.  An 
old  prescription  for  "a  fiend-sick  man,"  after  naming 
a  long  list  of  nauseous  drugs,  adds :  "  Sing  seven 
masses  over  it,  add  garlic  and  holy  water,  and  let  him 
drink  the  dose  out  of  a  church  bell."  Quite  likely 
such  a  dose,  given  with  kindness  and  to  the  soothing 
sounds  of  music,  might  help,  —  though  perhaps  it  would 
have  helped  quite  as  much  without  the  lupine  and 
lichen  and  githrife  and  cynoglossun  and  such  things. 


THE    RISE   AND    FALL   OF   SATAN         229 

But  lunatics  were  seldom  treated  with  kindness,  — 
and  could  not  be,  while  thought  possessed  by  Satan. 
Hence,  while  the  church  had  its  beautiful  charities  for 
widows  and  orphans  and  invalids,  and  even  for  foul 
lepers,  it  took  almost  no  care  of  the  insane.  So  late 
as  1789,  John  Howard  said  they  were  better  treated 
in  a  Mohammedan  asylum  in  Constantinople  than  in 
Christian  London  ;  and  an  authority  says  they  had 
been  better  treated  by  Moslems  for  a  thousand  years. 
They  were  not  only  neglected,  but  tormented.  An 
old  exorcism  howled  pages  of  curses  into  the  ears  of 
the  afflicted  man  or  hysterical  woman.  The  possessed 
persons  were  also  whipped  and  tortured,  with  the  idea 
that  the  torture  was  falling  on  the  indwelling  demon ; 
and  even  Sir  Thomas  More  commended  this  treat 
ment.  Still  worse  cruelties  did  this  belief  in  Satan 
bring  upon  "  witches  "  ;  and  President  White  says  that 
"  in  Germany  alone,  according  to  the  most  modest 
estimate,  there  perished  within  a  single  century,  by 
an  excruciating  death,  for  this  imaginary  crime,  not 
less  than  one  hundred  thousand  lives." 

In  view  of  such  wrongs  we  may  well  be  grateful 
for  the  loss  of  the  old  belief.  That  loss  has  been  a 
great  gain  in  material  things.  The  belief  that  disease 
came  from  demons  filling  the  air  like  snowflakes  made 
it  all  the  more  deadly  ;  but  the  knowledge  that  the 


230         THE    RISE   AND    FALL   OF    SATAN 

"  demons  "  were  germs,  or  other  natural  influences,  has 
been  a  successful  exorcism  indeed,  healing  thousands 
and  lengthening  the  average  life  of  all  Christendom. 
Even  more  has  been  the  moral  gain,  turning  the  old  cru 
elty  into  charity,  —  until,  to-day,  Christians  can  hardly 
credit  that  their  greatest  American  preacher  in  the 
eighteenth  century  said,  "  The  sight  of  hell  torments 
will  exalt  the  happiness  of  the  saints  forever."  Hardly 
less  has  been  the  religious  gain,  in  seeing  Deity  no 
longer  baffled  and  beaten  by  a  devil,  but  supreme,  as 
the  great  Hebrew  prophet  said,  and  ruling  the  universe 
with  eternal  order. 

Still,  there  was  in  the  old  doctrine  of  Satan  a  great 
truth  which  we  would  not  lose.  To  the  human  view, 
there  has  always  been  evil  as  well  as  good  in  the 
world,  and  always  must  be.  Progress  in  earth's  forms 
has  necessitated  not  only  creation,  but  destruction,  — 
not  only  growth,  but  decay,  —  not  only  life,  but  death. 
The  progress  of  the  human  race,  and  of  every  person 
in  it,  has  come  by  the  same  process,  —  the  loss  of 
old  habits,  and  the  growth  of  better.  To  each  advanc 
ing  society  and  soul,  there  is  always  the  good  ahead 
to  be  gained,  and  the  outgrown  to  be  left  behind ; 
always  the  forward  step  to  be  taken,  and  the  back 
ward  to  be  avoided ;  always  the  higher  life  to  be 


THE    RISE   AND    FALL   OF    SATAN         231 

sought,  and  the  lower  to  be  shunned.  These  oppo- 
sites,  though  parts  of  the  same  system,  must  by  each 
individual  be  contrasted  as  good  and  evil,  divine  and 
devilish. 

"Devil"  has  only  dropped  its  initial,  and  "evil" 
still  remains.  Satan  has  lost  his  personality,  but  still 
survives  and  tempts  men  as  he  did  Jesus  in  the  story. 
He  still  tempts  them  in  about  the  same  way :  first, 
through  "hunger," — that  is,  animal  passions;  sec 
ond,  through  vanity  and  the  desire  to  make  a  show  on 
some  "  pinnacle  "  in  the  public  view  ;  third,  and  worst, 
through  eagerness  for  worldly  power,  —  sacrificing 
principles  to  gain  "the  kingdoms  of  the  world  and  the 
glory  of  them."  And  he  is  still  to  be  conquered  as  in 
that  story,  —  not  by  contention  or  abuse,  but  as  in 
Jesus'  words,  "Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan."  We 
need  no  fight  against  evil  as  a  fiend,  no  denunciation 
of  it  as  devilish,  —  but  only  to  put  it  " behind"  us,  as 
a  thing  to  be  left  and  outgrown.  We  have  only  to 
abandon  it  and  go  ahead ;  — 

"  Move  upward,  working  out  the  beast, 
And  let  the  ape  and  tiger  die." 

Remember,  too,  that  the  "ape  and  tiger  "  have  had 
their  place,  and  that  all  evil  and  good  are  parts  of  the 
same  creation,  as  that  old  prophet  saw.  Even  the 
destructive  earthquakes  and  floods  come  from  the 


232         THE    RISE   AND    FALL   OF    SATAN 

same  forces  which  have  shaped  the  earth  and  still 
bless  it.  Even  diseases  come  by  the  same  laws  by 
which  the  grain  grows  in  the  field.  Decay,  destruc 
tion,  death  are  still  advancing  life,  —  and  are  bad 
only  to  our  human  outlook.  Man,  getting  a  moment's 
glimpse  of  infinity  through  the  pin-hole  of  his  present 
personality,  must  see  what  seem  good  and  evil,  sepa 
rate  and  opposed  to  each  other.  But  to  the  infinite  view 
they  are  only  the  noon  and  night  of  the  same  revolv 
ing  day,  the  spring  and  fall  of  the  same  celestial  year, 
the  flow  and  ebb  of  the  same  eternal  tide,  the  rise  and 
fall  of  the  beating  pulse  of  life  and  warming  breath 
of  love. 

So  too  with  moral  evils.  The  passions  have  all 
contributed  to  the  progress  of  life,  and  out  of  them 
have  grown  higher  principles.  Sacrifice  began  in 
selfishness,  and  even  love  in  lust.  Fraud,  robbery, 
slaughter,  war,  have  all  been  natural  and  helpful  in 
the  animal  stages  of  life.  Dirt  has  been  defined  as 
only  matter  out  of  place ;  and  even  our  crimes  and 
vices  might  be  called  actions  out  of  place.  When 
in  place,  in  animal  life  and  the  evolution  of  the  race, 
they  were  right  enough,  and  steps  toward  something 
higher. 

What  we  call  good  and  evil  are  only  the  up  and 
down  in  morals  ;  —  a  distinction  most  important  to 


THE   RISE   AND    FALL   OF   SATAN         233 

dwellers  on  earth,  but  not  to  the  Spirit  of  infinite 
space,  where  up  and  down  are  unknown.  Evils  are 
lower  steps  in  the  ascending  path  of  life.  Each 
society  or  soul,  looking  up  and  down  this  path,  must 
divide  it  into  the  good  above  and  bad  below.  But 
the  same  ground  which  one  looks  down  upon  as 
bad,  some  other  is  looking  up  toward  as  good.  The 
evil  is  only  relative.  It  is  not  even  real,  to  the  in 
finite  vision,  which  sees  the  ascent  all  undivided  and 
one. 

Through  this  thought  we  reach  that  spirit  of  for 
giveness  seen  in  Jesus,  who,  as  Renan  said,  showed 
"a  divine  incapacity  for  seeing  evil."  We  reach  that 
impartiality  which  Jesus  told  men  to  observe  and  im 
itate  in  the  heavenly  Father,  making  his  sun  to  rise 
and  rain  to  fall  on  good  and  evil  alike.  We  reach 
that  charity  which  Paul  said  "taketh  not  account 
of  evil."  The  highest  thought  will  not  dwell  upon 
evil,  but  will  seek  rather  to  strengthen  the  good, 
which  is  the  best  cure  of  the  bad.  It  will  see,  with 
Jesus,  that  peacemakers  and  lovers  of  enemies  are  the 
real  "  sons  of  God."  It  will  see  that  human  love  is 
the  highest  religion,  the  holiest  worship,  the  truest 
presence  of  God,  and  the  best  prophecy  that  the 
divine  Love  which  has  produced  it  will  make  it 
triumph  over  evil. 


THE    ENLARGING    THOUGHT 
OF    GOD 


THE    ENLARGING    THOUGHT 
OF    GOD 

RELIGION  seems  to  begin  everywhere  with  gods 
who  are  like  men.  Through  its  early  stages 
they  have  even  the  bodies  of  men.  Even  the 
great  Greek  gods  in  the  "  Iliad  "  retain  all  their  human 
organs  and  nerves.  Ares  is  wounded  by  the  spear  of 
Diomedes,  Hephaestus  is  lamed  by  his  fall  from  heaven, 
and  the  supreme  Zeus  is  a  wife-beating  husband. 
Relics  of  such  thoughts  are  of  course  found  in  the 
Bible.  It  tells  how  Jehovah  was  "walking  in  the 
garden  in  the  cool  of  the  day  " ;  how  he  was  often 
seen  "face  to  face,"  and  "spake  unto  Moses  face  to 
face,  as  a  man  speaketh  unto  a  friend."  Even  the  pas 
sage  which  declares  that  men  could  not  see  Jehovah's 
face  and  live  adds  that  he  said  to  Moses  :  "  I  will  cover 
thee  with  my  hand  until  I  have  passed  by  ;  then  I  will 
take  away  my  hand,  and  thou  shalt  see  my  back." 
Such  expressions  are  more  than  metaphor.  They 
show  the  old  beliefs  which  Jehovah  rebuked  in  the 
Psalm,  saying  to  man,  "Thou  thoughtest  that  I  was 
altogether  such  a  one  as  thyself." 


238  ENLARGING   THOUGHT   OF   GOD 

After  religion  has  outgrown  the  thought  of  gods  in 
human  form,  it  long  represents  them  with  human 
properties  and  passions,  with  the  anger  and  even  the 
appetites  of  men.  They  are  often  worse  than  men,  — 
since  religion  is  conservative,  keeping  the  ideas  of  a 
lower  past ;  so  that  the  people  of  Athens  become 
better  than  the  gods  of  Olympus,  whom  Plato  repudi 
ates  and  Lucian  ridicules.  The  gods  are  easily  en 
raged,  and  their  anger  is  appeased  by  praise  and  gifts, 
especially  by  gifts  of  food  in  sacrifice.  For  the  sacri 
fices  which  have  been  so  common  in  all  religions  were 
at  first  literal  offerings  of  food  to  gods  who  were 
hungry ;  —  and  Professor  William  Robertson  Smith 
says  "a  sacrifice  is  primarily  a  meal  offered  to  the 
Deity." 

The  Jehovah  of  the  early  Israelites  naturally  showed 
these  common  human  weaknesses.  He  is  quick  to 
anger,  and  we  often  read  of  his  "  wrath."  He  is 
vengeful,  and  savage  in  his  vengeance,  ordering  whole 
tribes  to  be  slaughtered,  to  the  last  child.  But  his 
vengeance  can  be  averted  and  his  anger  appeased,  like 
a  man's,  by  homage,  praise,  prayers,  prostrations,  and 
the  various  ceremonies  that  show  subjection.  He  is 
especially  moved  by  those  sacrificial  gifts  of  food ;  so 
that  burnt-offerings  are  the  chief  part  of  his,  just 
as  of  a  hundred  heathen  religions.  These  burnt- 


ENLARGING   THOUGHT   OF   GOD  239 

offerings  by  Israelites  to  Jehovah  are  even  called,  in 
the  Bible,  "  the  bread  of  their  God."  He  is  also 
gratified  by  pleasant  odors ;  —  from  the  early  day 
when  he  "  smelled  a  sweet  savor  "  in  Noah's  sacrifice, 
on  through  all  the  elaborate  laws  for  burning  incense 
before  him.  He  is  only  a  God  of  Israel,  with  many 
rivals  in  heathen  gods  who  are  just  as  real.  He  for 
bids  the  worship  of  other  gods  because  he  is  "jealous  " 
of  them ;  and  he  declares  that  even  his  "  name  is 
Jealous."  But  he  cannot  overthrow  those  other  gods 
in  Israel ;  and  even  the  great  Solomon  builds  shrines 
to  four  of  them  at  Jerusalem,  and  still  later  kings 
long  worship  them. 

But  some  of  the  later  Old  Testament  writers,  like 
wise  men  in  other  religions,  had  quite  outgrown  these 
earlier  ideas.  Monotheism  had  now  come  among 
them,  and  Jehovah  was  seen  as  the  God,  not  of  Jews 
alone,  but  of  all  nations  and  all  Nature.  A  psalmist 
finds  him  not  only  in  Palestine,  but  in  the  uttermost 
parts  of  the  sea,  in  light  and  darkness  alike,  in  heaven 
above  and  Sheol  below.  Jeremiah  makes  him  "fill 
heaven  and  earth  " ;  and  one  says,  "  the  heaven  and 
heaven  of  heavens  cannot  contain  him."  Or  notice 
the  sublime  sentences  about  him  in  the  book  of 
Isaiah.  Instead  of  the  former  God  of  Israel,  "  jealous  " 
of  other  gods,  he  upholds  the  whole  earth,  measuring 


240  ENLARGING   THOUGHT   OF   GOD 

its  seas  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  weighing  the  moun 
tains  in  scales  and  the  hills  in  a  balance,  and  consider 
ing  the  nations  as  but  "the  fine  dust  of  the  balance  "  ; 
—  nay,  "all  nations  before  him  are  as  nothing,"  and 
"less  than  nothing."  He  says:  "My  thoughts  are 
not  your  thoughts,  neither  are  your  ways  my  ways ; 
for  as  the  heavens  are  higher  than  the  earth,  so  are 
my  ways  higher  than  your  ways."  He  wants  no 
temple,  — "  where  is  the  house  that  ye  can  build  him  ? " 
He  is  too  great  for  any  sacrifices,  and  says  all  the 
forests  of  Mount  Lebanon  are  not  sufficient  for  the 
sacrificial  fire,  nor  all  its  beasts  for  a  burnt-offering. 
He  even  hates  the  old  offerings,  and  says,  "he  that 
sacrificeth  a  lamb  is  as  if  he  cut  off  a  dog's  neck," 
and  "he  that  killeth  an  ox,  as  if  he  slew  a  man."  He 
wants  no  more  of  their  formal  worship,  — "  incense  is 
.  an  abomination  to  me";  "yea,  when  ye  make  many 
prayers,  I  will  not  hear  "  ;  but  "  cease  to  do  evil,  learn 
to  do  well,  seek  justice,  relieve  the  oppressed."  So 
Micah  says  the  Lord  requireth  nothing  of  man  but  "  to 
do  justly,  to  love  mercy,  and  to  walk  humbly  "  with 
him.  Such  was  the  teaching  of  the  higher  prophets, 
and  of  the  best  Jews  after  them. 

Jesus  continued  it,  making  righteousness,  mercy, 
and  meekness  the  true  religious  service ;  especially 
mercy,  carried  to  the  extreme  of  forgiveness  and  love. 


ENLARGING   THOUGHT    OF    GOD  241 

He  also  brought  God  into  a  nearer  and  tenderer  rela 
tion,  emphasizing  the  doctrine  that  he  is  "  our  Father," 
and  that  all  who  loved  their  enemies,  and  all  peace 
makers,  were  especially  "sons  of  God."  The  epistle 
of  John  dwells  upon  this  idea,  and  declares  that  "  every 
one  who  loveth  is  begotten  of  God."  It  brings  God 
still  nearer,  and  says,  "if  we  love  one  another,"  he 
"  dwelleth  in  us."  It  even  gives  to  the  idea  of  God 
an  almost  impersonal  breadth,  as  of  a  principle,  and 
says,  "  God  is  love,  and  he  that  dwelleth  in  love  dwell 
eth  in  God  and  God  in  him."  This  writer  does  indeed 
seem  to  see  God  in  no  love  except  that  of  the  Chris 
tians,  but  Paul  extends  the  thought  to  others.  He  not 
only  writes  to  the  corrupt  Corinthian  church,  "  Ye  are 
the  temple  of  God,  and  God  dwelleth  in  you,"  but,  in 
his  reported  address  to  the  pagans,  quotes  their  poet,  — 
"  in  him  we  live  and  move  and  have  our  being  "  ;  and, 
in  his  supposed  epistle  to  the  Ephesians,  he  says,  God 
is  "  Father  of  all,  over  all  and  through  all  and  in  all." 
Instead  of  counting  the  earth  as  his  "footstool,"  and 
all  its  nations  as  "less  than  nothing,"  God  fills  the 
earth  with  his  presence,  lives  in  all  its  nations,  and  is 
enthroned  not  only  in  the  heavens,  but  in  the  human 
heart. 

So  large  a  thought  is  found  in  some  of  the  New 
Testament  writers.    Not  that  it  was  peculiar  to  them ; 


242  ENLARGING   THOUGHT   OF   GOD 

for  the  thought  of  God  immanent  in  all  men  and  life 
had  long  been  taught  among  pagan  thinkers,  and  was 
a  common  doctrine  of  the  Stoics.  Nor  was  it  taught 
by  all  the  New  Testament  writers,  and  their  general 
thought  falls  far  below  it.  But  here  and  there  they 
touch  it.  In  one  passage,  God  has  outgrown  not  only 
the  human  passions,  but  almost  the  human  personality 
of  the  earlier  thought,  and  has  become  the  principle 
of  love  uniting  Christians.  In  another,  he  has  be 
come  larger  than  Christian  love,  and  almost  one 
with  universal  life;  and,  instead  of  being  enthroned 
on  high  in  the  heavens,  he  infolds  and  fills  the  world 
and  all  things  in  it.  So  does  the  Bible,  with  its  many 
strata  of  thought  reaching  through  a  thousand  years, 
show  us  the  growth  in  the  idea  of  God,  from  a  narrow 
and  "jealous"  Jehovah  dividing  men,  to  a  universal 
love  uniting  them  ;  from  a  person  of  human  form 
showing  his  body  to  Moses,  to  a  life  pervading  all 
things,  too  vast  and  spiritual  to  be  limited  by  any 
form. 

This  large  thought  of  God  was  long  kept  by  a  part 
of  the  Church.  It  was  taught  by  Clement  of  Alex 
andria,  Origen,  Athanasius,  and  others,  who  accepted 
the  teaching  of  the  Stoics,  —  regarded  Deity  as  filling 
the  universe  and  ever  working  through  natural  laws. 
Had  their  views  prevailed,  we  should  have  had  a  noble 


ENLARGING   THOUGHT   OF   GOD  243 

Christian  theology,  seeing  God  everywhere  in  the 
human  and  natural,  and  so  identifying  religion  with 
all  knowledge  and  human  progress. 

But  a  very  different  theology  was  destined  to  pre 
vail,  and  to  separate  Christianity  from  Nature.  This 
came  chiefly  from  Saint  Augustine,  who  followed  the 
opposite  Gnostic  teaching  that  man  and  Nature  were 
vile,  and  that  Deity  dwelt  altogether  apart  from  them, 
acting  upon  them  only  occasionally  through  intermedi 
ate  and  miraculous  agents.  For  various  reasons,  says 
John  Fiske,  "  the  Augustinian  theology  prevailed ; 
and,  in  the  dark  ages  which  followed,  it  became  so 
deeply  inwrought  into  the  innermost  fibers  of  Latin 
Christianity  that  it  remains  dominant  to-day  alike  in 
Catholic  and  Protestant  churches.  With  few  excep 
tions,  every  child  born  of  Christians  in  Western 
Europe  or  America  grows  up  with  an  idea  of  God,  the 
outlines  of  which  were  engraved  upon  men's  minds 
by  Augustine,"  more  than  three  centuries  after  the 
apostles. 

Thus  the  narrow  thoughts  of  God,  which  had  been 
so  nobly  outgrown  in  Hebrew  prophets  and  heathen 
sages,  in  pagan  Stoics  and  many  early  Christians,  all 
returned.  Instead  of  a  "  Father  of  all,  over  all  and 
through  all  and  in  all,"  Jehovah  again  became  the  God 


244  ENLARGING    THOUGHT    OF    GOD 

of  a  single  religion,  and  at  enmity  with  all  others. 
Not  even  in  Christendom  was  he  supreme,  but  was 
thought  half-dispossessed  by  Satan.  Even  among 
Christians,  he  ceased  to  be  the  principle  of  love  unit 
ing  them,  and  again  became  a  person  of  jealousy  and 
hate,  punishing  every  one  who  did  not  hold  the  proper 
opinions  about  him,  and  so  making  Church  history  for 
centuries  mainly  a  series  of  quarrels  over  theological 
questions.  He  again  came  to  be  pleased  with  the 
fasts  and  forms  in  religion  which  Isaiah  made  light  of, 
and  his  worship  came  to  consist  mainly  of  liturgies, 
ceremonies,  and  show.  Even  the  old  doctrine  of  sac 
rifice  came  back  in  a  form  more  dishonorable  than 
before,  and  it  was  taught  that,  if  he  did  want  no  more 
blood  of  lambs,  he  demanded  that  of  his  own  son. 
Almost  his  bodily  form  came  back.  He  was  painted 
on  church  walls  and  windows  with  the  limbs  and 
clothes  of  a  man.  In  the  miracle-plays  he  came  on 
the  stage  as  a  man  ;  and  Lewes'  life  of  Goethe  tells 
of  one  where  Jehovah  was  "  seen  sleeping  on  his  throne 
during  the  crucifixion,"  and,  when  waked  up  and  in 
formed  of  it,  declared  with  astonishment  that  he  had 
known  nothing  about  it. 

God  came  again  to  be  represented,  not  merely  with 
the  weakness,  but  with  the  wickedness  of  men,  and 
with  far  worse  cruelty  than  he  showed  to  the  Canaan- 


ENLARGING   THOUGHT   OF   GOD  245 

ites  of  old.  The  Church  for  centuries  taught  that  he 
wanted  Christians  to  treat  heretics  worse  than  Joshua 
did  the  Hittites,  and  in  his  name  they  butchered  and 
burned  men  in  ways  that  made  Saul's  slaughter  of 
the  Amalekites  appear  humane.  Protestants  did  less 
burning,  but  quite  enough  ;  and  they  long  continued 
to  teach  that  God  himself  would  burn  most  of  his 
children  forever,  and  that  he  wanted  to  be  praised  for 
it.  This  was  taught  by  even  the  best  men.  A  simple 
woman  is  said  to  have  commended  her  minister  as 
"  so  good  that  he  never  said  an  unkind  word  against 
any  being  except  our  heavenly  Father."  Good  min 
isters  did  indeed  say  the  most  unkind  things  against 
him,  in  their  many  sermons  on  total  depravity  and 
eternal  torture.  They  represented  him  as  infinitely 
more  cruel  than  the  cruelest  man,  and  worse  than  the 
wickedest.  All  the  cruelty  and  crime  on  earth  did 
not  amount  to  a  millionth  part  as  much  as  preachers 
charged  against  their  heavenly  Father  every  Sunday 
for  centuries.  Against  him,  at  any  rate,  they  made 
out  a  clear  case  of  "total  depravity." 

Theology  has  indeed  taught  that  God's  "  thoughts 
are  not  our  thoughts," —  but  that  they  are  far  foolisher 
than  ours.  It  has  taught,  not  that  his  ways  are  as 
much  better  than  ours  as  "  the  heavens  are  higher 
than  the  earth," — but  that  they  are  as  much  worse 


246  ENLARGING   THOUGHT   OF   GOD 

than  ours  as  the  idea  of  "  hell  "  was  worse  than  human 
homes. 

But  the  renaissance  and  return  to  Nature  began 
again  to  bring  larger  thoughts  of  God.  These  have 
of  course  not  seemed  so  in  their  time,  and  the  enlarge 
ment  of  the  idea  has  always  been  feared  at  first  as 
the  loss  of  it.  Even  the  teaching  that  Deity  has  not 
the  bodily  form  of  men  seemed  denial  of  him,  and 
made  the  old  monk  Serapion  say  in  sorrow,  "  You 
have  taken  away  my  God."  But  through  these  denials 
the  idea  has  ever  remained,  deepening  and  broaden 
ing. 

When  men  began  to  deny  the  doctrine  of  eternal 
punishment,  their  thought  seemed  impious,  almost 
atheistic.  But  it  was  soon  seen  that  the  impiety  was 
on  the  other  side,  and  that  the  real  denial  of  God  was 
in  the  doctrine  that  made  him  so  ungodlike. 

When  they  began  to  doubt  whether  God  died  for 
us  on  Calvary,  this  again  seemed  denial.  But  to-day 
we  see  that  the  denial  of  Deity  was  rather  in  the 
thought  that  he  could  die,  and  the  atheism  was  in  the 
doctrine  that  he  was  slain  by  a  few  soldiers. 

To  question  the  atonement  seemed  impious  at  first. 
But  it  was  at  length  seen  that  the  impiety  was  rather 
in  the  dogma  which  made  God  demand  the  death  of 


ENLARGING   THOUGHT   OF   GOD  247 

his  dearest  son  before  he  would  forgive  his  own  chil 
dren  for  sins  which  they  did  not  commit.  Lord  Bacon 
said,  "It  were  better  to  have  no  opinion  of  God  at  all 
than  such  an  opinion  as  is  unworthy  of  him";  and 
Bacon  went  on  to  approve  Plutarch's  saying  that  he 
would  sooner  have  his  own  existence  denied  than  be 
accused  of  eating  his  children,  as  was  told  of  Saturn. 

Even  the  denial  of  Satan  seemed  profane  at  first. 
But  the  profanity  was  rather  in  the  thought  of  God 
being  so  dispossessed  by  a  rival,  and  the  denial  of  this 
doctrine  was  only  the  larger  assertion  of  Deity.  To 
deny  that  the  Bible  was  the  infallible  and  only  revela 
tion  of  God  seemed  altogether  impious.  But,  rather,  it 
offered  an  excuse  for  all  the  errors  there,  and  showed 
his  larger  revelation  in  Nature  and  history  and  human 
souls.  The  doubt  of  miracles  seemed  at  first  to  pro 
fane  God.  But  thinking  men  soon  saw  that  these 
interruptions  of  the  divine  order  of  Nature  would  be 
no  credit  to  him,  and  that  the  order  itself  reveals  a  far 
truer  Deity.  As  Mrs.  Ripley  said,  she  did  not  show 
disbelief  in  God  by  denying  miracles,  but  denied  them 
because  she  believed  in  him. 

All  the  sciences  enlarged  the  thought  of  Deity. 
Geology,  which  seemed  so  irreligious  in  spoiling  the 
old  story  of  creation,  only  shows  a  far  vaster  creation, 
stretching  through  countless  ages  beyond  those  six 


248  ENLARGING   THOUGHT   OF   GOD 

days,  and  still  continuing.  Astronomy,  which  seemed 
at  first  so  atheistic,  rather  reveals  an  infinitely  wider 
world  than  Isaiah  saw,  and  a  God  who  holds  in  the 
hollow  of  his  hand,  not  the  mere  waters,  but  the 
Milky  Way ;  —  who  puts  in  the  balance,  not  the  hills 
alone,  but  the  whole  heavens.  Yet  this  God,  though 
so  great,  does  not  count  the  nations  "as  nothing," 
nor  the  earth  as  his  footstool,  but  cares  for  every 
atom.  The  hand  that  hid  him  from  Moses  reveals 
him  to  us,  holding  the  heavens  in  eternal  harmony, 
and  writing  throughout  the  earth  everywhere,  from 
stone  strata  up  to  seeds  and  souls,  his  eternal  laws. 

These  laws  seemed  at  first  to  deny  God,  but  only 
proved  him.  Newton,  referring  all  the  celestial  move 
ments  to  gravity,  seemed  to  leave  no  room  for  Deity. 
But  to  further  thought,  gravity  only  showed  the  uni 
versal  and  divine  order ;  and  Voltaire  said  Newton 
had  proved  God,  whom  the  catechism  had  only  asserted. 
Chemistry  and  other  sciences,  reducing  all  earthly 
changes  to  law,  seemed  for  a  time  to  dispense  with 
Deity.  But  men  soon  saw  that  laws  are  only  the  way 
in  which  a  mysterious  force  behind  them  works,  and 
that  their  constancy,  which  we  can  always  trust,  only 
shows  how  good  is  that  way.  Religion  also  learned 
this ;  and  natural  theologians  at  last  took  these  same 
sciences,  which  had  been  thought  to  deny  God,  as 


ENLARGING   THOUGHT   OF   GOD  249 

proof  that  he  is  much  truer  and  better  than  the 
church  had  thought.  Order  was  only  a  sign  of  a 
diviner  world. 

When  the  evolutionists  came  teaching  a  vaster  and 
more  perfect  order,  —  that  creation  itself  had  been  all 
and  always  in  accordance  with  law,  —  they  were  of 
course  called  atheists.  But  their  doctrine  promises 
to  be  the  most  religious  of  all.  To-day  many  clergy 
men  seem  to  see  less  objection  to  Darwinism  than 
Darwin  did.  They  say  that  the  doctrine  of  evolution 
will  only  perfect  the  idea  of  God,  by  declaring  that 
his  way  has  never  been  the  fickle  and  human  one  of 
starts  and  stops,  but  always  that  diviner  way  of  un 
varying  law  and  unerring  order. 

So  does  the  idea  of  God  persist  and  progress.  We 
break  each  form  of  it,  only  to  find  that  we  have  broken 
into  a  larger.  We  lose  one  God,  only  to  discover  that 
we  have  found  a  greater.  We  lose,  one  after  another, 
those  ways  of  God  which  are  our  ways  ;  but,  with 
further  thought,  we  see  that,  however  good  they 
may  be  in  man,  they  would  be  unwise  in  Deity,  — 
faults  in  his  perfection,  limitations  to  his  infinity. 
Already,  we  see  that  the  least  trace  of  human  fickle 
ness  or  caprice  would  dishonor  him.  Already,  wise 
men  see  that  will  —  in  the  human  sense  of  a  purpose 


250  ENLARGING   THOUGHT   OF   GOD 

subject  to  change — would  be  a  weakness  in  the 
Power  that  rules  the  world. 

They  see  that  even  love,  in  our  sense  of  the  word, 
would  not  be  good  in  a  God.  That  human  fondness, 
which  we  call  love,  is  partial  in  its  nature,  and  only  its 
absence  makes  possible  that  larger  love  which  can 
care  for  the  universe.  Love  is  the  divinest  feeling 
we  can  know  ;  —  and  seeing  how  life  is  ever  born  from 
love,  and  ever  rising  towards  more  perfect  love,  we 
can  still  say  that  "God  is  love."  But  infinite  love 
must  be  so  broad  and  deep  as  to  absorb  all  the  little 
meanings  which  we  can  give  the  word.  Here,  too, 
the  ways  of  God  must  be  as  much  higher  than  human 
ways  as  the  heavens  are  higher  than  the  earth. 

We  are  beginning  to  see  that  even  personality,  in 
any  human  sense  of  the  term,  would  not  honor  Deity, 
but  would  deny  his  infinitude  and  mar  his  perfection. 
Even  among  men,  the  greatest  are  those  who  most 
rise  above  the  limitations  of  person,  and  live  in  imper 
sonal  principles,  following  truth  and  goodness  regard 
less  of  their  own  feelings.  What  we  value  in  an 
earthly  ruler  is  not  his  personal  feelings,  but  his 
freedom  from  them,  and  his  utter  fidelity  to  the 
right.  The  trouble  with  our  officers  is  that  they 
have  too  much  personality,  warping  them  from  that 
fidelity  and  leading  them  to  help  themselves  and 


ENLARGING   THOUGHT   OF   GOD  251 

their  favorites.  We  want  in  our  civil  rulers  as 
much  impersonality  as  possible ;  and  why  should 
we  not  want  it  in  the  ruler  of  the  universe,  see 
ing  that  it  would  make  him  all  the  more  divine  ? 
Hence  Emerson  said  :  "I  feel  that  there  is  some 
profanation  in  saying  God  is  personal"; — "I  deny 
personality  to  God  because  it  is  too  little,  not  too 
much."  A  prominent  scientist  said,  "in  denying 
God's  personality  we  need  not  consider  him  as  below 
the  being  of  a  person,  but  as  infinitely  above  what 
person  means  in  the  language  of  men."  Here,  too, 
we  find  that  God's  ways  are  not  our  ways,  but  as 
much  above  them  as  the  heavens  are  above  the  earth. 
For  us  to  think  that  the  highest  must  be  limited  by 
personality,  because  we  are,  is  somewhat  as  if  the 
oyster  should  think  that  the  highest  life  must  be  shut 
in  by  a  shell. 

What  right  have  we  to  measure  life  by  our  little 
experience  ?  The  earth  shows  it  rising  from  the 
amoeba  to  man,  and  in  man  rising  from  the  savage 
who  cannot  count  six,  to  the  sage  who  calculates  the 
course  of  comets.  The  earth,  too,  is  but  an  atom  in 
an  infinite  space  filled  with  larger  worlds,  as  our  air 
is  with  dust.  With  the  rocks  under  us  and  the  race 
around  us  showing  such  progress,  and  with  the  heavens 
shining  above  us  to  show  infinite  possibilities,  shall  we 


252  ENLARGING   THOUGHT   OF   GOD 

limit  life  by  ourselves  ?  For  man  to  conclude  that  he 
has  attained  the  summit  of  even  earthly  life  is  some 
what  as  if  the  old  Jurassic  reptiles,  when  they  repre 
sented  the  highest  civilization  of  the  earth,  had  formed 
the  same  conclusion.  And  for  man,  because  he  knows 
no  higher  life,  to  suppose  that  Deity  is  like  himself, 
is  about  as  wise  as  if  the  barnacles  on  a  lone  rock  in 
mid-ocean  should  suppose  that  they  show  the  highest 
possible  existence,  and  that  God  is  "  altogether  such  a 
one  "  as  themselves. 

It  is  more  rational  and  reverent  to  admit  with  the 
prophet  that  God's  ways  are  not  our  ways,  and  to  leave 
him  undescribed.  This,  too,  the  wisest  Hebrew  poets 
taught  when  they  wrote  of  a  God  "  whom  no  man  hath 
seen  or  can  see ";  "we  know  him  not";  "his  great 
ness  is  unsearchable";  "touching  the  Almighty,  we 
cannot  find  him  out."  This  the  wisest  Christians  and 
deepest  thinkers  have  confessed.  Even  Paul  came 
very  near  being  an  agnostic  in  his  words  to  the 
Corinthians  :  — "  If  any  man  thinketh  that  he  knoweth 
anything,  he  knoweth  nothing  yet  as  he  ought  to 
know."  In  the  same  century  with  Calvin,  the  revered 
Richard  Hooker  wrote:  "Our  soundest  knowledge 
[of  God]  is  to  know  that  we  know  him  not  as  indeed 
he  is,  neither  can  know  him  ;  and  our  safest  eloquence 
concerning  him  is  our  silence,  when  we  confess  with- 


ENLARGING   THOUGHT   OF   GOD  253 

out  confession  that  his  greatness  is  above  our  capacity 
and  reach."  Spinoza  said  "to  define  God  is  to  deny 
him."  A  modern  orthodox  writer  declares  that  "a 
God  understood  would  be  no  God  at  all,"  and  "to 
think  that  God  is  as  we  think  him  would  be  blasphemy." 
Arthur  Hugh  Clough's  poem  praises  him  as  "  unknown 
because  divine."  True  reverence  speaks  in  William 
Watson's  lines  :  — 

"  Unmeet  to  be  profaned  by  praise 

Is  he  whose  coils  the  world  infold  ; 
The  God  on  whom  I  ever  gaze, 

The  God  I  never  once  behold  ; 
Above  the  cloud,  beneath  the  clod, 
The  Unknown  God,  the  Unknown  God." 

To  leave  God  unknown  and  even  unnamed  is  no 
loss  of  him.  It  is  perhaps  a  surer  way  to  find  him. 
Hermann  Melville  remarked  to  Hawthorne  that,  if 
God  were  but  left  out  of  the  dictionary,  he  would  be 
seen  in  the  streets  ;  and  Robert  Collyer's  reported 
saying  is,  "I'll  believe  in  God  if  you'll  let  me  alone." 
Even  the  reverent  Mr.  Gannett  not  only  sings  how 

"  We  find  him  not  by  seeking  long, 
We  lose  him  not  unsought, "- 

but  elsewhere  represents  God  himself  as  rebuking  the 
too  familiar  use  of  and  insistence  upon  his  name  : 


254  ENLARGING   THOUGHT   OF   GOD 

"  Never  more  name  me  !  Nameless,  I  hold  men  ever, 
draw  them  ever^on  and  on  ;  and  you  are  atheizing 
them  with  your  kind  stress  about  my  name.  Silence 
names  me  as  well  as  sound."  But,  though  unnamed, 
God  still  speaks,  everywhere  and  better  than  of  old. 
Hear  him  in  the  poet's  lines  :  — 

"I  am  the  blush  of  the  morning,  and  I  am  the  evening  breeze; 
I  am  the  leaf's  low  murmur,  the  swell  of  the  terrible  seas; 
I  am  the  mote  in  the  sunbeam,  and  I  am  the  burning  sun  ; 
'  Rest  here,'  I  whisper  the  atom  ;  I  call  to  the  orb,  '  Roll  on !' 
I  am  what  was,  is,  shall  be,  —  creation's  ascent  and  fall; 
The  link,  the  chain  of  existence,  — beginning  and  end  of  all." 

Real  atheists  are  rare,  and  Theodore  Parker  ar 
gued  that  they  are  impossible.  Of  course  many 
men  are  called  so ;  and  John  Fiske  tells  of  the  min 
ister  in  early  New  England  who  was  charged  by  the 
Puritans  with  setting  up  "a  schole  of  athism,"  just 
because  he  was  an  Episcopalian  and  used  the  Book 
of  Common  Prayer.  Of  course  many  men  profess 
atheism.  But  they  can  hardly  deny  Deity  even  when 
they  try.  Said  a  blatant  and  blundering  lecturer,  "  I 
am  an  atheist,  thank  God ! "  Denial  of  Deity  is 
seldom  any  more  successful .  What  is  called  "  atheism  " 
is  generally  the  denial  of  narrow  definitions  of  God  in 
order  to  assert  better,  —  or  to  reach  the  best  of  all  by 
leaving  him  undefined.  Emerson  liked  Thoreau's 


ENLARGING    THOUGHT   OF   GOD  255 

saying  that  God  himself  might  prefer  atheism.  One 
of  Kenan's  "  Philosophical  Dramas  "  is  a  dialogue  in 
heaven,  wherein  Gabriel,  speaking  of  the  earth  and 
its  skeptics,  says  to  Jehovah :  "  If  I  had  thine  omnipo 
tence,  I  would  quickly  reduce  those  wicked  atheists 
to  silence."  But  Jehovah  benevolently  replies  :  "  Ah, 
Gabriel,  thou  art  faithful ;  but  thy  fidelity  makes  thee 
narrow.  Learn  my  tenderness  for  men  who  doubt  or 
deny.  They  deny  the  image,  grotesque  or  abominable, 
which  has  been  put  in  my  place  ;  but,  in  that  world  of 
idolaters  and  hypocrites,  they  alone  really  respect  me." 
Often,  too,  it  is  at  length  learned  that  they  best 
respect  him.  Spinoza  was  long  thought  the  arch- 
atheist  of  his  time.  He  was  called  "  the  prince  of 
atheists"  and  "the  wickedest  atheist  that  ever  lived." 
But  Novalis  afterward  called  him  "  a  God-intoxicated 
man,"  as  if  too  much  possessed  with  the  thought  of 
Deity.  Schleiermacher  said :  Spinoza  not  believe 
in  God  ?  —  he  did  not  believe  in  anything  but 
God ;  and  a  recent  scholar  called  him  "  the  man 
who  possessed  the  highest  consciousness  of  God  in 
his  day." 

So  does  the  atheism  of  one  age  become  the  theism 
of  the  next,  and  one  theology  fall  to  make  room  for 
a  better.  Charles  Lyell,  traveling  in  France  during 
the  revolution  of  1830,  and  watching  the  crowd  take 


256  ENLARGING   THOUGHT   OF   GOD 

down  the  cross  from  the  cathedral  of  Perpignan, 
heard  some  one  say  :  "  Each  in  his  turn ;  the  good 
God  has  had  his."  Rather,  crucifixes  and  ceremonies 
have  their  turn;  cathedrals  and  churches,  theologies 
and  philosophies,  have  their  turn  ;  but  God's  turn  is 
eternity,  and  he  survives  all  revolutions.  Said  O.  B. 
Frothingham  :  "  Definitions  of  God  have  been  vanish 
ing,  idols  have  been  tumbling,  symbols  have  been 
falling  away,  trinities  have  been  dissolving,  person 
alities  have  been  waning  and  losing  themselves ;  — 
but  the  Being  has  been  steadily  coming  forward  from 
the  background,  looming  up  from  the  abyss." 

Nor  has  this  "  Being  "  lost  the  qualities  for  religion 
to  revere  and  love.  Seeing  how  this  Power  pervades 
an  infinite  universe,  ever  working  the  miracle  of  new 
creation  and  advancing  life,  yet  everywhere  working 
through  laws  that  can  be  trusted,  we  are  forced  to 
say  that  we  have  a  far  greater  and  truer  God  than 
our  fathers  knew.  Seeing  how  this  Power  works  for 
righteousness,  making  evil  undo  itself,  making  the 
just  cause  prevail,  and  even  out  of  physical  defeat 
bringing  new  spiritual  growth  and  moral  progress,  we 
can  still  say,  "  God  is  good."  Seeing  how  this  Power 
fills  the  earth  with  joys  that  no  sorrow  can  repress, 
ever  smiles  upon  us  in  the  beauty  of  human  faces, 
and  ever  infolds  us  in  the  warmth  of  human  affection, 


ENLARGING    THOUGHT    OF    GOD  257 

we  can  still  say  that  "God  is  love,"  and  can  still 
trust  that  this  love  is  deeper  and  diviner  than  human 
reason  can  fathom. 

"  The  letter  fails,  the  systems  fall, 

And  every  symbol  wanes  ; 
The  Spirit  overbrooding  all, 
Eternal  Love,  remains." 

Ana  man  still  prays,  more  reverently  than  by  any 
name;  —  as  in  Mr.  Cranch's  Psalm: 

"  Thou,  so  far  we  grope  to  grasp  thee  ; 
Thou,  so  near  we  cannot  clasp  thee  ; 
Thou,  so  wise  our  prayers  are  heedless  ; 
Thou,  so  loving  they  are  needless  ! 
In  each  human  soul  thou  shinest  ; 
Human-best  is  thy  divinest. 
In  each  deed  of  love  thou  warmest  ; 
Evil  into  good  transformest. 
Soul  of  all,  and  moving  center 
Of  each  moment's  life  we  enter  ; 
Breath  of  breathing,  light  of  gladness, 
Infinite  antidote  of  sadness  ; 
All-preserving  ether  flowing 
Through  the  worlds,  yet  past  our  knowing;  — 
Never  past  our  trust  and  loving, 
Nor  from  thine  our  life  removing  ; 
Still  creating,  still  inspiring, 
Never  of  thy  creatures  tiring  ; 
Artist  of  thy  solar  spaces 
And  thy  humble  human  faces  ; 


258  ENLARGING   THOUGHT   OF   GOD 

Mighty  glooms  and  splendors  voicing, 
And  thy  plastic  work  rejoicing  ; 
Through  benignant  Law  connecting 
Best  with  best  and  all  perfecting. 
Though  all  human  races  claim  thee, 
Thought  and  language  fail  to  name  thee. 
Mortal  lips  be  dumb  before  thee  ! 
Silence  only  can  adore  thee  !  " 


CHRISTIANITY  THEN  AND  SINCE 


CHRISTIANITY  THEN  AND  SINCE 

THE  strangest  thing  in  Church  history  is  the 
contrast  between  Christ's  own  teachings  and 
those  now  called  by  his  name.  A  large  part  of 
the  latter  plainly  did  not  come  from  him,  but  from 
others  long  after  him,  and,  as  John  Fiske  said,  were 
"unwarranted  by  Scripture  and  never  dreamed  of  by 
Christ  or  his  apostles."  The  dogmatic  and  harsh 
doctrines  of  the  later  Church  drop  away,  little  by 
little,  as  we  go  backwards  through  the  previous  writ 
ings  ;  and  the  nearer  we  approach  to  Jesus  himself, 
the  more  reasonable,  the  more  humane,  the  better  he 
appears. 

We  see  this  even  in  going  to  our  common  ver 
sion  of  the  New  Testament,  which  contains  only  a 
few  passages  supporting  doctrines  that  are  the  sub 
stance  of  later  creeds.  We  see  it  more  in  going  fur 
ther  back  to  the  old  manuscripts,  which  are  used  in 
our  Revised  Version,  and  which  omit  some  of  these 
passages.  For  instance,  the  famous  verse  about  the 
three  witnesses,  —  the  chief  passage  for  proving 


262         CHRISTIANITY   THEN    AND    SINCE 

the  "trinity,"  and  regarded  by  many  as  the  only 
proof,  —  is  altogether  absent  from  the  oldest  three 
manuscripts,  is  entirely  omitted  in  the  Revised  Ver 
sion,  and  is  now  universally  rejected  by  scholars  as  a 
spurious  addition,  not  belonging  to  the  New  Testa 
ment  at  all.  Often,  the  later  text  adds  theological 
matter  in  this  way.  It  adds  the  term  "  Christ  "  in 
twenty-five  places,  and  sometimes  with  entire  change 
of  meaning.  Where  the  early  manuscripts  and  the 
Revised  Version  declare  (Eph.  3  : 9)  that  God  "  created 
all  things,"  our  common  version  is  that  he  "  created  all 
things  by  Jesus  Christ."  That  startling  phrase  mak 
ing  Jesus  the  Creator  is  only  an  addition  to  the  orig 
inal  sentence.  We  need  not  suppose  that  the  person 
who  added  it  was  dishonest.  He  probably  believed, 
and  quite  innocently  wrote  those  words  making  Jesus 
the  very  Creator  of  the  universe  and  of  all  things  in 
it.  But  the  original  text  did  not  hint  any  such  doc 
trine,  or  so  much  as  mention  Jesus  at  all. 

Not  only  particular  beliefs,  but  even  the  need  of 
belief,  and  punishment  for  unbelief,  have  been  thus 
added.  The  apostle's  requirement  of  the  Ethiopian 
eunuch  that  he  must  "  believe,"  and  the  Ethiopian's 
reply, "  I  believe  that  Jesus  Christ  is  the  son  of  God," 
are  both  lacking  in  the  early  manuscripts,  and  are 
both  omitted  from  the  Revised  Version.  Notice,  too, 


CHRISTIANITY   THEN   AND    SINCE         263 

the  passage  in  Mark  telling  how  Jesus  "  upbraided 
them  with  their  unbelief,"  and  added,  "He  that  believ- 
eth  and  is  baptized  shall  be  saved,  and  he  that  believeth 
not  shall  be  damned."  This  is  the  only  passage  in  the 
synoptic  gospels  that  pronounces  a  curse  on  unbelief ; 
—  and  we  know  how  often  preachers  have  taken  it  for 
text  and  drawn  from  it  the  most  frightful  sermons. 
Yet  it  is  wholly  absent  in  the  early  manuscripts.  That 
curse  on  unbelief  does  not  come  from  Jesus,  or  even 
from  the  original  gospel,  but  only  from  some  later  and 
unknown  writer  who  thought  it  ought  to  be  there. 

Thus  do  harsh  and  dogmatic  sayings  in  our  New 
Testament  fail  to  appear  in  its  earlier  forms,  leaving 
Christianity  more  reasonable  and  more  humane.  And 
we  infer  that  this  would  be  seen  even  more  if  we  could 
go  further  back.  When  so  much  of  the  dogmatic  and 
narrow  drops  away  as  we  go  to  the  manuscripts  of  the 
fourth  century,  doubtless  yet  more  would  if  we  could 
go  to  the  earlier  ones  of  the  second,  and  would  leave 
the  New  Testament  a  still  better  book. 

But  probably  a  much  greater  and  better  change 
would  be  found  if  we  could  go  behind  the  New  Testa 
ment  record,  to  the  real  teachings  of  Jesus  himself. 
For  when  those  teachings  have  been  so  changed  and 
corrupted  even  since  they  were  written,  how  much 
more  so  they  must  have  been  during  the  many  years 


264         CHRISTIANITY   THEN    AND    SINCE 

while  remaining  unwritten.  During  those  years  they 
were  merely  told  from  mouth  to  mouth,  kept  in  faulty 
memories,  and  misunderstood  by  faulty  minds.  That 
they  were  so  misunderstood  even  by  the  apostles  is 
repeatedly  told  in  the  New  Testament  itself.  To 
Philip,  Jesus  said,  "  Have  I  been  so  long  time  with 
thee,  and  yet  hast  thou  not  known  me,  Philip?" 
Even  to  the  foremost  Peter,  Jesus  once  said,  "  Thou 
art  an  offense  unto  me,  for  thou  savorest  not  of  the 
things  that  be  of  God."  Even  John,  who  has  so 
curiously  obtained  a  reputation  for  gentleness,  Jesus 
has  to  rebuke  because  John  wanted  to  call  down  fire 
to  consume  a  village  which  would  not  receive  them. 
When  Jesus  thus  censured  the  very  apostles  for  their 
harshness,  narrowness,  and  misunderstanding  of  him, 
the  plain  inference  is  that  they  did  misunderstand 
him,  and  that  he  was  a  much  nobler  soul  than  they 
reported. 

This  inference  is  sustained  by  a  closer  study  of  the 
New  Testament.  For  the  nearer  we  get  to  Jesus 
himself,  the  less  dogmatic,  the  more  simple,  humane, 
and  beautiful  become  both  his  teachings  and  his 
character.  The  theology  is  found  mostly  not  in  his 
reported  words,  but  in  the  writings  of  others.  It  is 
found  chiefly  in  the  many  epistles  from  Paul  and  his 
school. 


CHRISTIANITY   THEN   AND   SINCE         265 

Not,  indeed,  that  we  would  underrate  Paul.  He 
was  a  most  brave  and  tender-hearted  man.  He  was 
of  broad  mind,  the  apostle  to  the  gentiles,  seeking  to 
widen  Christianity  from  the  little  movement  of  a  Jew 
ish  sect  into  a  religion  for  all  mankind.  Paul  was 
peculiarly  rilled  with  the  spirit  of  Jesus,  and  his  many 
sentences  for  charity  and  love  are  among  the  best  in 
the  Bible  and  in  all  literature.  But  not  the  less  is  he 
an  inadequate  exponent  of  Jesus'  own  thought.  He 
does  not  claim  ever  to  have  seen  Jesus,  except  in  a 
vision  after  the  latter's  death.  Nor  did  Paul  try  to 
learn  from  the  other  apostles  who  had  seen  him,  but, 
as  he  tells  us  in  his  epistle  to  the  Galatians,  took 
particular  pains  to  keep  away  from  them  and  from 
Jerusalem.  The  New  Testament  shows  that  he  often 
disagreed  with  them,  sometimes  censured  them ;  and 
even  of  Peter  he  says,  "  I  withstood  him  to  the  face, 
because  he  was  to  be  blamed."  Hence  a  considerable 
part  of  the  early  Church  did  not  regard  Paul  as  an 
authority,  and  hardly  as  a  Christian.  He  was,  besides, 
a  man  of  visions  and  speculative  thought ;  —  and, 
though  he  was  the  chief  founder  of  Christian  theology, 
he  evidently  evolved  it  from  his  own  consciousness, 
rather  than  from  the  traditions  of  apostles  or  from 
words  of  Jesus.  Hence,  in  seeking  what  Jesus  himself 
really  taught,  we  must  pass  by  the  epistles  of  Paul 


266         CHRISTIANITY   THEN   AND    SINCE 

and  his  school,  notwithstanding  their  abundant  ex 
cellences. 

Of  far  more  value  for  learning  what  Jesus  taught, 
is  the  epistle  of  James,  which  has  been  regarded  by 
many  as  written  by  Jesus'  own  brother,  and  is  regarded 
by  all  as  representing  the  thought  of  the  Jerusalem 
apostles.  This  epistle  opposes  and  even  makes  light 
of  Paul's  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith  ;  —  so  much 
so  that  Luther  condemned  it  as  teaching  "  contrary 
to  Paul."  It  is  curiously  free  from  theological  doc 
trines,  and  is  mainly  a  moral  exhortation  to  patience, 
purity,  and  love.  It  rebukes  the  rich,  pleads  for  the 
poor,  even  for  giving  them  a  good  seat  at  the  meetings ; 
and  expressly  defines  "  religion  "  as  "  to  visit  the  father 
less  and  widows  in  their  affliction  and  to  keep  oneself 
unspotted  from  the  world."  In  all  this,  it  doubtless 
represents  Jesus'  first  followers.  It  is  indeed  much 
like  the  recently  discovered  "  Teaching  of  the  Twelve 
Apostles, "a work  of  the  first  century,  which  is  mainly 
moral  and  says  nothing  about  faith. 

We  need  not  stop  to  notice  any  other  New  Testa 
ment  writing,  except  the  four  gospels.  The  so-called 
epistles  of  Peter  are  now  regarded  as  having  been 
written  long  after  he  died  ;  —  and  perhaps  even  Peter 
himself,  with  all  his  warmth  and  worth,  would  not 
have  given  us  a  perfect  knowledge  of  Jesus,  since  he 


CHRISTIANITY   THEN   AND    SINCE         267 

thrice  declares  with  an  oath  that  he  never  knew  Jesus 
at  all.  Nor  can  we  learn  of  Jesus  best  through  the 
writings  which  bear  the  name  of  John.  "  The  Rev 
elation,"  though  widely  regarded  as  a  genuine  work  of 
the  apostle  John,  treats  of  Jesus'  "second  coming," 
rather  than  of  his  earthly  life ;  and  it  evidently  is  not 
true  to  Jesus'  spirit,  for  it  ascribes  to  him  the  same 
cruelty  which  he  so  rebuked  in  John.  If  Jesus  so 
censured  John  for  wanting  to  destroy  a  few  unbeliev 
ers,  he  would  have  censured  him  far  more  for  destroy 
ing  them  all  so  fiercely  in  this  book.  The  epistles  and 
gospel  bearing  the  name  of  John  put  the  same  empha 
sis  on  belief  for  which  Jesus  rebuked  him.  They 
cannot  rightly  represent  Jesus,  even  if  they  came  from 
John  ;  —  but  most  scholars  agree  that  they  were  not 
written  until  long  after  John  died.  They  contain  some 
of  the  finest  passages  in  all  religious  literature,  and 
the  gospel  contains  much  of  great  value  about  Jesus' 
life.  But  their  theology,  and  their  insistence  upon 
believing  it,  are  of  later  origin,  and  must  be  omitted 
in  our  inquiry  as  to  what  Jesus  taught. 

So  we  pass  to  the  other  and  older  three  gospels  as 
our  best  authority.  They  are  quite  in  the  spirit  of 
that  epistle  of  James.  They  give  our  fullest  account 
of  Jesus'  life  and  sayings,  and  their  accounts,  when 
disagreeing  with  the  fourth  gospel,  generally  agree 


268         CHRISTIANITY   THEN    AND   SINCE 

with  each  other.  They  agree  in  little  things  ;  —  such 
as  in  dating  the  crucifixion  on  the  same  day,  while  the 
fourth  puts  it  on  a  different  day  ;  and  in  dating  Jesus' 
cleansing  of  the  temple  in  the  same  year,  while  the 
fourth  puts  it  in  a  different  year.  They  all  agree  in 
making  Jesus'  teaching  plain  and  simple,  while  the 
fourth  makes  it  metaphysical  and  mystical.  Still 
more  important,  they  all  agree  in  showing  Jesus  touch- 
ingly  human,  tempted,  suffering,  and  declaring  his 
weakness  and  want  of  knowledge  ;  —  while  the  fourth 
shows  in  him  no  weakness,  no  temptation,  no  suffer 
ing  even  on  the  cross,  but  makes  him  a  God  from  all 
eternity,  knowing  all  things  and  even  creating  all. 
Commentators  try  to  reconcile  these  conflicting  repre 
sentations  by  saying  that  they  show  the  two  different 
sides  of  Jesus'  nature.  But  the  two  sides  will  not  go 
together.  He  could  not  be  weak  and  omnipotent  at 
the  same  time ;  could  not  be  ignorant  of  a  thing  and 
know  it  all  the  while.  We  are  forced  to  choose 
between  the  two  representations.  Nor  can  we  doubt 
which  to  choose.  The  three  agreeing  accounts  out 
weigh  the  other ;  the  three  earlier  outweigh  the  later. 
The  fourth  gospel  is  of  great  value,  and  rich  in  spirit 
ual  truths  ;  but  as  an  authority  for  Jesus'  real  teaching 
we  have  to  prefer  the  other  three. 

Nor  can  we  take  even  these  three  without  a  critical 


CHRISTIANITY    THEN    AND    SINCE         269 

reading.  They  too,  while  containing  our  oldest  account 
of  Jesus,  were  not  written  in  their  present  forms  until 
long  after  his  death.  Hence  they  often  disagree, 
even  where  we  should  least  expect  it.  For  instance, 
there  is  nothing  in  which  they  should  more  agree  than 
in  their  record  of  the  inscription  on  Jesus'  cross,  so 
short  and  plain  for  all  to  see.  Yet  this  inscription  is 
recorded  in  the  four  gospels  in  four  different  forms, 
no  two  alike.  Such  disagreements  are  often  not 
merely  in  words,  but  in  meaning.  Even  the  records 
of  the  beatitudes  so  disagree.  Where  Matthew  makes 
Jesus  say,  "  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit,"  Luke  makes 
him  say,  "  Blessed  are  ye  poor," — that  is,  in  property. 
Where  Matthew  makes  him  say,  "  Blessed  are  they 
who  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness,"  Luke 
omits  the  "  righteousness,"  and  gives  it,  "  Blessed  are 
ye  who  hunger  now," — that  is,  for  food.  So  plain  is 
it  that  Jesus'  words  are  not  always  recorded  with 
accuracy  even  in  the  first  three  gospels. 

But,  however  fallible  in  details,  these  gospels  give 
a  general  idea  of  Jesus'  teaching.  They  show  how 
it  contrasted  with  our  creeds,  and  even  with  other 
New  Testament  writings.  It  contrasted  in  language  ; 
—  and  in  passing  from  the  epistles  and  fourth  gospel 
to  the  first  three,  we  pass  from  mystical  speech  to  the 
"  breath  and  sunshine  of  the  hills,"  as  Dr.  Martineau 


270         CHRISTIANITY   THEN    AND    SINCE 

said,  — "  to  the  language  of  life,  born  in  the  field,  the 
boat,  the  olive  ground."  It  contrasted  in  the  same 
way  in  the  naturalness  of  its  religion,  and  is  curiously 
devoid  of  the  later  doctrines  about  human  nature 
and  about  himself. 

Even  that  fundamental  doctrine  which  the  Evangel 
ical  Alliance  affirms,  — "  the  utter  depravity  of  human 
nature  in  consequence  of  the  fall," — is  not  found  in 
these  gospels.  Not  once  in  them  does  Jesus  allude  to 
any  "  fall,"  or  speak  a  word  about  native  depravity. 
Instead  of  teaching  that  children  are  born  depraved, 
he  even  takes  them  for  examples  of  purity ;  and  says, 
"  Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  me,"  "for  of  such 
is  the  kingdom  of  God."  Instead  of  saying,  with 
Jonathan  Edwards,  that  "in  God's  sight"  children  are 
naturally  "  vipers  and  infinitely  more  hateful  than 
vipers,"  Jesus  says  they  are  just  what  God's  kingdom 
is  made  of.  Nor  did  he  want  the  children  converted  ; 
but  his  words  are,  "  be  converted  and  become  as  little 
children."  The  conversion  he  taught  was  not  from 
Nature,  but  from  formalism  back  to  Nature.  Of  any 
mysterious  regeneration,  or  of  any  depravity  calling 
for  it,  these  three  gospels  have  nothing  to  say. 

Nor  does  Jesus  in  them  teach  the  accompanying 
doctrine  of  the  "vicarious  atonement."  In  Matthew 
he  does  indeed  have  one  clause  about  his  blood  shed 


CHRISTIANITY    THEN    AND    SINCE         271 

"for  the  remission  of  sins."  But  both  Mark  and 
Luke,  in  reporting  the  same  conversation  and  the 
same  sentence,  omit  this  clause.  Surely  they  would 
not  have  omitted  the  most  important  part  of  the 
sentence.  Evidently  they  had  not  heard  of  it.  Evi 
dently  Jesus  did  not  say  it ;  but,  like  so  many  other 
things,  it  was  added  by  a  later  writer  who  thought  he 
ought  to  have  said  it. 

Even  about  his  own  nature,  Jesus'  teaching  in  these 
three  gospels  is  curiously  unorthodox.  In  them  he 
nowhere  hints  that  he  is  a  God,  but  refuses  to  be 
called  even  "  good."  If  he  calls  himself  "  son  of  God," 
he  gives  the  same  name  to  many  others ;  and  even  the 
epistle  of  John  declares,  "now  are  we  the  sons  of 
God,"  and  "  every  one  that  loveth  is  begotten  of  God." 
Even  if  Jesus  used  the  term  in  the  especial  sense  of 
the  expected  Messiah,  still  that  Messiah,  in  Jewish 
thought,  was  to  be  no  god  or  demi-god.  The  Jew 
Trypho,  as  quoted  by  Justin  Martyr,  said,  "we  all 
expect  that  Messiah  will  be  a  man  born  of  men." 
Jesus  nowhere  hints  even  of  his  miraculous  birth  from 
a  virgin.  Nor  is  that  birth  taught  anywhere  in  the 
New  Testament,  except  in  the  introductions  to  Mat 
thew  and  Luke  ;  —  and  even  Matthew  and  Luke  deny 
it  repeatedly  by  declaring  him  the  son  of  Joseph,  and 
still  more  by  their  elaborate  genealogical  tables  tracing 


272         CHRISTIANITY   THEN    AND    SINCE 

his  ancestry  through  Joseph.  For  why  take  such 
pains  to  trace  Jesus'  parentage  forty  generations  back 
through  Joseph,  if  after  all  Joseph  was  not  his  parent  ? 
Those  two  miraculous  birth-stories  most  clearly  con 
tradict  the  gospels  in  which  they  stand.  They  also 
repeatedly  contradict  each  other ;  —  one  making  his 
parents  dwell  in  Nazareth  before  his  birth,  and  the 
other  making  them  only  migrate  there  after  his  birth ; 
—  one  inserting  a  long  journey  to  Egypt  which  the 
other  makes  impossible.  Evidently  these  birth-stories 
were  told  of  him  only  by  an  adoring  generation  after 
ward,  just  as  they  were  told  of  so  many  other  men 
before  him  and  in  his  own  times. 

In  these  three  gospels,  Jesus  does  not  even  seem 
eager  for  personal  honor.  In  one  long  passage  he 
expressly  identifies  himself  with  the  poor  and  the 
despised ;  teaches  that  the  true  way  to  honor  him  is 
to  feed  the  hungry,  clothe  the  naked,  visit  the  prison 
ers  ;  and  says,  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto 
one  of  the  least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye  have  done 
it  unto  me."  Even  the  sayings  in  which  Jesus  seems 
to  exalt  himself  are  so  opposed  elsewhere  as  to  make 
us  think  he  did  not  utter  them.  He  is  represented  as 
teaching  that  he  should  return  supernaturally  soon 
after  death,  in  that  same  generation,  "  coming  in  the 
clouds  of  heaven  with  great  glory  "  and  with  "  a  great 


CHRISTIANITY   THEN    AND    SINCE         273 

sound  of  a  trumpet,"  to  establish  the  kingdom  of  God 
with  sudden  revolution.  But  when  we  find  him  teach 
ing  elsewhere  so  wisely  that  this  kingdom  was  to  be 
of  slow  growth,  like  the  silent  grain  and  mustard 
and  unseen  leaven,  —  a  spiritual  kingdom  in  the  souls 
of  men,  coming  "not  with  observation," — we  have  to 
conclude  that  the  other  and  cruder  portrayal  of  it 
came  not  from  Jesus,  but  from  the  ardent  hopes  of 
those  followers  who  were  always  misunderstanding 
him. 

He  is  also  represented  as  working  many  mira 
cles ; —  though  no  more  than  the  man  Elijah,  who 
also,  according  to  the  Old  Testament,  raised  the  dead 
to  life,  and  ascended  bodily  to  heaven,  and  was  ex 
pected  to  return  thence.  But  when  we  find  Jesus 
rebuking  the  desire  for  miracles  or  "signs,"  and 
declaring  that  not  one  should  be  given  to  that  genera 
tion  (Mark  8:12),  we  are  disposed  to  think  that  he 
really  made  no  claim  to  work  them,  and  that  they,  too, 
were  only  told  of  him  by  credulous  admirers,  just  as 
they  have  been  told  of  other  great  men.  And  when 
we  see  his  simplicity,  his  modesty,  and  the  spirituality 
of  his  teaching,  we  doubt  whether  he  even  claimed  to 
be  that  Messiah  whom  the  common  people  were  ex 
pecting,  and  whether  that  doctrine  also  was  not  the 
mere  belief  of  his  devoted  followers. 


274         CHRISTIANITY   THEN   AND    SINCE 

So  does  a  rational  study  of  these  three  gospels 
clear  Jesus'  character  of  all  fanaticism  and  superstition, 
and  exalt  him  into  a  spiritual  teacher  of  the  highest 
order,  whose  divine  lessons  were  distorted  and  low 
ered  by  his  disciples.  He  was  a  great  and  beautiful 
soul,  drawing  followers  by  the  charm  and  power  of  his 
personality,  and  teaching  the  true  religion  of  Nature 
and  humanity.  For  artificial  forms  and  observances 
he  had  little  care.  He  broke  the  Sabbath,  they  said ; 
did  not  fast,  or  teach  his  disciples  to ;  neglected  the 
ceremonial  washings  and  ways  ;  ate  with  publicans  and 
sinners,  and  mingled  with  the  disreputable.  He  took 
the  world  for  his  church,  common  people  and  even 
outcasts  for  its  communicants,  rebuked  injustice  and 
exclusiveness ;  and  preached  the  simple  religion  of 
life,  of  brotherhood,  of  love,  and  of  trust  in  the 
heavenly  Father. 

How  he  preached  it,  let  the  Church  itself  tell  us. 
In  these  gospels  there  is  one  long  section,  filling  three 
chapters,  which  the  church  calls  Jesus'  "sermon  on 
the  mount."  His  other  sayings  are  mostly  occasional, 
but  these  are  especially  honored  as  his  "sermon,"  his 
real  preaching.  Critics  also,  though  not  regarding 
them  as  a  connected  utterance,  agree  with  the  church 
that  they  best  show  his  religious  teaching.  They 


CHRISTIANITY    THEN    AND    SINCE         275 

seem  to  be  the  oldest  and  hence  most  genuine  collec 
tion  of  his  precepts.  Perhaps  they  are  part  of  those 
"Sayings  of  Jesus"  which  are  said  to  have  been  re 
corded  first  by  Matthew ;  —  and  they  may,  therefore, 
have  given  Matthew's  name  to  this  gospel  in  which 
they  are  imbedded,  and  given  it  the  first  place  in  the 
New  Testament.  At  any  rate,  they  are  the  best  col 
lection  we  have,  and  Dr.  Davidson  calls  them  "the 
most  authentic  summary  of  what  Jesus  taught."  To 
these  three  chapters,  then,  criticism  sends  us  for  Jesus' 
most  genuine,  and  the  Church  for  his  most  religious, 
teaching,  —  for  a  "sermon"  is  just  where  he  will 
preach  his  religion.  And  here  he  does  preach  it. 
Religion  is  the  theme  of  these  chapters.  In  them 
Jesus  speaks  of  God  and  heaven.  He  does  not,  in 
deed,  define  God  or  heaven,  —  and  perhaps  teaches 
thereby  that  the  true  sermon  should  not  attempt  to. 
But  he  tells  how  to  gain  heaven,  how  to  see  God,  how 
to  be  saved. 

How  ?  Is  it  by  sound  theological  beliefs  ?  The 
sermon  does  not  contain  a  word  about  the  necessity 
of  any  such,  but  sentence  after  sentence  assuring  sal 
vation  without  them.  The  first  verse  tells  who  shall 
gain  "the  kingdom  of  heaven."  Who?  Not  proud 
priests  and  dogmatists  who  claim  to  have  compre 
hended  God  and  his  plans;  but  "the  poor  in  spirit," 


276         CHRISTIANITY   THEN   AND    SINCE 

the  humble,  modest  people.  Nor  is  there  any  mistake 
about  it,  for  Jesus  goes  on  to  pronounce  a  blessing  on 
"the  meek,"  who  are  much  like  them. 

Then  he  blesses  those  who  "  hunger  and  thirst 
after"-  — not  theology  —  but  "righteousness";  as  if 
creeds  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  case.  Nor  did  he 
mean  hungering  after  "  vicarious  righteousness,"  for 
in  the  next  sentence  he  says  that  men  are  to  be  saved 
for  their  own  goodness  :  "  Blessed  are  the  merciful, 
for  they  shall  obtain  mercy."  God  will  save  for  mere 
kindness  of  heart,  and  does  not  care  what  theology 
goes  with  it. 

Then  comes  a  sentence  telling  who  shall  be  so 
blessed  as  to  "see  God."  Is  it  "professing  believ 
ers  "  ?  No,  says  Jesus,  "the  pure  in  heart  "  ;  —  as  if 
prayer-books  in  their  hands  and  catechisms  in  their 
heads  had  nothing  whatsoever  to  do  with  it.  Then 
follows  a  still  higher  beatitude,  telling  who  shall  have 
that  holiest  name  of  "sons  of  God."  Surely  it  should 
be  those  who  show  most  zeal  for  sound  dogmas  !  But, 
no  ;  it  is  the  "  peacemakers,"  the  very  persons  who  do 
not  quarrel  about  dogmas  or  differences  of  any  kind, 
but  rise  above  them  all  into  the  spirit  of  brother 
hood. 

Here,  in  short,  are  six  beatitudes  telling  who  are 
to  be  most  "  blessed,"  but  without  a  hint  of  any 


CHRISTIANITY   THEN   AND    SINCE         277 

theologic  doctrine.  A  theologian  would  have  made 
them  about  the  trinity  and  the  atonement,  human 
depravity,  and  Adam's  fall ;  —  but  Jesus  ignores  the 
whole  series.  He  makes  men  receive  mercy,  gain 
heaven,  see  God,  and  become  sons  of  God,  without  the 
slightest  allusion  to  "  evangelical "  doctrines.  We 
might  go  through  the  whole  sermon  with  the  same 
result.  There  is  not  a  suggestion  in  it  that  those 
doctrines  are  necessary,  or  of  the  slightest  impor 
tance. 

Is  there  any  evidence  in  it  that  Jesus  even  believed 
those  doctrines  ?  If  he  did,  he  certainly  would  show 
it  in  a  sermon.  But  you  cannot  find  a  trace  of  them. 
Not  even  the  theologians  can  find  them  there,  but 
have  to  turn  away  from  Jesus  to  get  what  they  call 
his  teaching.  Take,  for  instance,  the  Presbyterian 
"  Confession  of  Faith,"  and  notice  how,  through  its 
long  array  of  Biblical  proof-texts,  it  avoids  these  say 
ings  of  Jesus.  Turn  to  its  important  chapter,  "  Of 
God  and  of  the  Holy  Trinity,"  and  you  find  eighty- 
one  references  to  the  Bible,  but  not  one  to  Jesus' 
sermon.  Turn  to  its  chapter  on  man's  fall  and  de 
pravity,  and  you  find  sixty  -  eight  proof  -  texts  ;  but 
not  one  of  them  is  from  Jesus'  sermon.  Turn  to 
its  vital  chapter  on  "Justification,"  telling  how  men 
are  saved.  This  is  exactly  what  Jesus  was  talking 


278         CHRISTIANITY   THEN   AND   SINCE 

about,  and  his  sermon  is  full  of  texts.  But  they 
do  not  fit  the  "  Confession,"  and  it  passes  them 
by  to  gather  ninety-six  elsewhere.  It  does  indeed 
take  one  from  Jesus'  sermon,  but  apparently  by  mis 
take  ;  for  this  text  is  from  the  very  passage  declaring 
that  all  who  forgive  others  shall  be  forgiven,  and  hence 
need  no  other  justification  whatsoever !  So  does  this 
"  Confession  "  seek  to  show  Jesus'  teaching  by  shun 
ning  the  chief  record  of  it ;  —  as  if  you  should  study 
your  Shakespeare  by  shutting  it  up.  To  prove  these 
chief  doctrines  of  Christian  theology,  it  quotes  245 
texts  from  the  Bible  ;  —  but  only  one  of  them  is  from 
Jesus'  sermon,  and  that  one  from  a  passage  denying 
the  doctrine  whose  proof  was  sought. 

For  this  sermon  not  only  omits  but  denies  much 
of  the  Church  teaching.  It  denies  the  doctrine  of 
eternal  punishment.  Although  using  the  terms  "  hell " 
and  "  hell  of  fire,"  it  certainly  did  not  mean  any 
thing  like  that  of  the  Westminster  Confession  ;  — 
for  its  command  to  men  to  love  their  enemies,  and 
so  become  "  sons  of  God,"  clearly  denied  that  this  God 
would  burn  his  enemies  forever,  or  torture  them  at 
all.  So  that  declaration,  that  all  who  forgive  others 
will  be  forgiven  of  God,  denies  the  doctrine  that  they 
will  not  be  forgiven  without  faith.  All  the  precepts 
making  religion  to  consist  in  love  deny  the  doctrine 


CHRISTIANITY   THEN   AND   SINCE         279 

that  it  consists  in  beliefs.  They  even  deny  part  of 
Scripture.  Jesus'  command,  "love  your  enemies," 
denies  a  considerable  part  of  the  Old  Testament ;  — 
and  he  even  quotes  words  from  it  expressly  to  contra 
dict  them.  Your  Exodus  and  Leviticus  and  Deuter 
onomy  say,  "an  eye  for  an  eye  and  a  tooth  for  a 
tooth ;  but  I  say  unto  you  that  ye  resist  not  evil," 
and,  when  smitten  on  one  cheek,  turn  the  other. 
Jesus  even  denies  the  common  opinions  about  prayer, 
and  tells  men  to  leave  the  altar,  and  first  be  reconciled 
to  their  brethren,  as  if  that  were  the  more  important 
thing.  He  even  tells  them  not  to  pray  in  public : 
"  but  thou,  when  thou  prayest,  enter  into  thy  closet," 
and  "shut  the  door."  And  instead  of  urging  them 
even  there  to  repeat  liturgies  or  long  prayers  of  any 
kind,  he  tells  them  not  to  use  "vain  repetitions"  or 
"much  speaking";  and  the  prayer  he  leaves  as  a 
model  is  less  than  a  minute  long,  with  part  of  that 
lacking  in  the  oldest  manuscripts.  He  seems  to  have 
taught  the  prayer,  not  of  words,  but  of  life. 

How  strange,  too,  are  Jesus'  teachings  about  him 
self  in  this  sermon  !  There  is  no  word  implying  that 
he  is  a  God  or  even  "son  of  God"  in  any  superhuman 
sense.  Twice,  indeed,  he  uses  this  term  ;  but  in  both 
cases  it  is  to  apply  it,  not  to  himself,  but  to  others, 
and  to  declare  that  all  who  love  their  enemies,  and  all 


28o         CHRISTIANITY   THEN    AND    SINCE 

peacemakers,  "shall  be  called  the  sons  of  God."  Nor 
does  he  call  himself  even  Christ,  or  say  anything  about 
the  Messiah.  He  does  not  seem  to  care  for  their 
homage  ;  and  expressly  says  that,  not  calling  him 
"  Lord,  Lord,"  but  doing  the  Father's  will,  is  what  is 
wanted.  He  does  not  ask  them  to  use  his  name  in 
any  way ;  but,  rather,  he  declares  that,  to  many  who 
do  use  it,  and  who  say,  "  Lord,  Lord,  have  we  not 
prophesied  in  thy  name,  and  in  thy  name  done  many 
wonderful  works,"  he  will  answer,  "  I  never  knew  you, 
depart  from  me,  ye  that  work  iniquity."  This  indif 
ference  of  Jesus  to  his  own  glory  gives  us  new  admira 
tion  and  reverence  for  him.  It  is  perhaps  the  most 
glorious  thing  recorded  of  him.  It  gives  us  reason 
to  think  that  he  was  really  so  unselfish,  so  great,  so 
noble,  so  divine  a  soul  as  not  to  care  in  the  least  that 
men  should  ever  use  his  name  at  all. 

Finally,  what  a  broad  thought  of  God  is  found  here  ! 
He  is  not  only  "our  Father,"  but  the  God  of  all 
Nature,  who  "feedeth"  "the  fowls  of  the  air"  and 
doth  "clothe  the  grass  of  the  field."  But  the  chief 
thing  Jesus  declares  of  God  is  his  utter  impartiality, 
in  which  he  distributes  his  blessings  upon  all  men 
without  inquiring  what  they  believe  or  what  they  are  : 
"  for  he  maketh  his  sun  to  rise  on  the  evil  and  on  the 
good,  and  sendeth  rain  on  the  just  and  on  the  unjust." 


CHRISTIANITY    THEN    AND    SINCE         281 

Jesus  also  cites  this  impartiality,  not  merely  as  a  fact, 
but  as  the  very  perfection  of  God ;  and  he  urges  men 
to  be  as  "perfect"  and  impartial.  Herein  Jesus 
teaches  a  religion,  not  merely  of  brotherhood  and  for 
giveness,  but  wholly  divine  in  its  absence  of  prejudice 
and  its  all-embracing  charity. 

Such  is  this  part  of  the  New  Testament  which 
critics  call  "  the  most  authentic  summary  of  Jesus' 
teaching,"  and  which  the  Church  consecrates  as  the 
one  "sermon"  that  he  has  left  us.  What  a  strange 
contrast  to  the  teachings  of  the  Church  !  W.  R. 
Greg  declared  his  "  amazement,"  increasing  with  every 
new  "  perusal  of  the  genuine  words  and  life  of  Jesus, 
that  out  of  anything  so  simple,  so  beautiful,  so  just, 
so  loving,  and  so  grand,  could  have  grown  up,  or  been 
extracted,  anything  so  marvelously  unlike  its  original 
as  the  current  creeds  of  Christendom." 

Very  unlike  Christ  indeed  have  been  not  only 
the  creeds,  but  the  deeds  of  Christendom.  Edmond 
Kelly,  in  his  recent  book,  says  that,  while  Justin 
Martyr's  picture  of  a  Church  community  in  the  sec 
ond  century  was  true  to  Jesus'  teaching,  from  Con- 
stantine's  day  "the  Christian  Church  ceased  to  be 
Christian."  Where  indeed  was  the  Christianity  in 
the  wranglings  of  the  Eastern  Church  for  the  next 


282         CHRISTIANITY   THEN   AND    SINCE 

thousand  years,  or  in  the  persecutions  and  wars  of 
the  Western  still  later  ?  How  conspicuous  was  it  in 
the  times  of  the  Reformation,  on  cither  side  ?  Luther 
said  if  Christ  should  come  back  to  earth,  "without 
doubt  the  Pope  would  crucify  him  again  "  ;  and  often 
afterward  the  Pope  might  have  returned  the  same 
compliment  to  the  Protestants. 

A  somewhat  sarcastic  observer,  when  asked  if 
Christianity  had  been  a  successful  experiment,  said  it 
had  not  been  tried  yet ;  —  and  how  much  indeed  has  it 
been  tried  in  modern  times  ?  The  French  girl,  read 
ing  about  the  brotherly  and  beautiful  life  of  the  early 
Church,  said  :  "  Mama,  in  what  country  do  the  Chris 
tians  live  ?  Let  us  go  and  live  in  a  Christian  coun 
try  !"  She  did  not  find  it  in  Catholic  France.  She 
would  hardly  have  found  it  in  Protestant  England. 
Carlyle  grimly  said  you  might  fire  a  pistol  through  a 
church  there  without  any  danger  of  hitting  a  Chris 
tian.  Ruskin  accused  even  the  clergy  of  this  defec 
tion  from  Christ.  He  said  that,  during  thirty  years' 
attendance  at  church,  he  "  never  heard  one  preacher 
deal  faithfully  with  the  question  between  God  and 
mammon  " ;  and  that  the  very  bishops,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  the  heretic  Colenso,  had  "  forfeited  and  fallen 
from  their  bishoprics  by  transgression  and  betrayal 
of  their  Lord."  He  said  English  churchmen  did  not 


CHRISTIANITY   THEN   AND    SINCE         283 

try  to  keep  even  the  Decalogue,  but  only  to  have  it 
"  said  every  Sunday,  and  a  little  agreeable  tune  on  the 
organ  played  after  every  clause  "  ;  —  while,  in  practice, 
they  treated  it  as  "  the  ten  crotchets  of  Moses,"  and 
went  "  with  armed  steamers  up  and  down  the  China 
seas,  selling  opium  at  the  cannon's  mouth,  and  alter 
ing  the  highwayman's  '  Your  money  or  your  life  ! ' 
into  '  Your  money  and  your  life  ! ' '  Ruskin  took  his 
illustration  from  the  opium  trade,  —  for  England  had 
not  then  sunk  to  the  Boer  war. 

In  the  same  spirit,  our  American  poet  Lowell  wrote  : 
"The  Church  has  corrupted  Christianity.  We  are 
still  Huns  and  Vandals  at  heart.  We  have  carved  a 
cross  upon  our  altars ;  —  but  the  smoke  of  our  sacri 
fice  goes  up  to  Thor  and  Odin  still."  Lowell  after 
ward  wrote  to  Longfellow  that  Christ  was  "against 
the  Christianity  of  the  world,  and  it  must  go  down  " ; 
and  Thoreau  said  the  only  way  to  understand  Christ 
was  to  get  rid  of  Christianity.  John  Wilkes,  from 
whom  the  Wilkesites  were  named,  said,  in  view  of 
their  errors,  that  he  was  not  a  Wilkesite  ;  and  one  sus 
pects  that  often,  in  the  last  fifteen  hundred  years,  if 
Christ  had  been  on  earth,  he  would  have  said  he  was 
not  a  Christian. 

Not  that  I  would  charge  the  Church  especially  with 
disobeying  Christ ;  —  for  others  have  done  it  no  less. 


284         CHRISTIANITY   THEN    AND    SINCE 

But  the  Church  makes  that  disobedience  worse  by  its 
doctrines  about  him.  It  disobeys  him,  while  at  the 
same  time  it  deifies  him.  It  declares  him  supreme 
Deity,  yet  treats  his  teachings  as  folly  and  falsehood. 
It  says  we  must  believe  that  Christ  was  "very  God," 
but  we  need  not  obey  him.  We  must  believe  that 
he  was  "very  God  of  very  God  "  ;  but  we  shall  have 
to  disobey  him,  to  keep  the  respect  of  Christen 
dom.  For,  though  his  commands  about  property  are 
infallible,  still,  if  you  follow  them,  even  the  Church 
will  call  you  a  fool.  Though  his  commands  about 
brotherhood  are  divine,  still,  if  you  apply  them  in  our 
dealings  with  other  nations,  even  the  clergy  will  call 
you  a  traitor.  They  say  he  ordered  us  to  love  our 
enemies ;  but  we  will  loot  them.  He  ordered  us  to 
offer  the  cheek  to  those  who  have  smitten  us  ;  but 
we  will  bombard  and  blow  into  shreds  those  who 
have  not  smitten  us.  He  ordered  us  to  forgive  the 
offender  490  times  ;  but  we  will  not  forgive  those 
whose  only  offense  is  in  defending  their  own  lands 
and  homes.  As  a  result,  we  send  an  army  to  some 
foreign  land,  where  it  has  no  more  moral  right 
to  be  than  a  Russian  army  has  to  be  in  Minnesota ; 
we  brand  as  "rebels"  those  who  try  to  protect  their 
wives  and  daughters  against  us ;  we  burn  their  towns 
and  butcher  their  children  ;  —  and  then,  if  there  are 


CHRISTIANITY    THEN    AND    SINCE         285 

any  left,  we  send  missionaries  to  teach  them  that  it 
was  a  "very  God"  who  forbade  all  these  things. 

A  leading  writer  not  long  since  said  that  if  Jesus 
could  have  foreseen  on  the  cross  the  deeds  that  his 
professed  followers  were  going  to  do  in  his  name,  "  it 
would  have  been  more  cruel  to  his  tender  soul  than 
the  thorns  wherewith  his  enemies  crowned  him." 
Certainly  he  has  been,  and  still  is,  crucified  worse 
than  on  Calvary,  and  buried  deeper  than  any  sepulcher. 
I  too  have  kept  Good  Friday  and  Passion  Week,  — 
and  kept  them  every  week  in  the  year  for  several 
years.  I  have  kept  them,  however,  not  so  much  for 
any  brief  crucifixion  by  ancient  unbelievers,  as  for 
Christ's  long  and  continued  crucifixion  by  Christen 
dom  itself ;  not  for  any  harmless  burial  in  Gethsemane, 
from  which  he  rose  right  away,  but  for  this  far  sadder 
burial  of  centuries,  from  which  he  has  not  risen  yet, 
and  from  which  there  is  so  little  sign  that  the  Church 
even  wants  him  to  rise. 

But  all  true  souls  will  desire  his  resurrection  and 
reign.  For  our  study  has  shown  that  Jesus  was  better 
and  nobler  and  greater  than  creeds  have  ever  told,  and 
his  teachings  more  reasonable  and  religious.  Not  that 
they  were  the  teachings  of  him  alone.  Most  of  them 
were  already  familiar  in  his  nation,  and  many  of  them 


286         CHRISTIANITY   THEN    AND    SINCE 

in  other  religions  and  literatures.  But  not  the  less  do 
we  owe  him  for  gathering  these  golden  truths,  for 
refining  and  coining  them  into  sentences  to  circulate 
through  the  centuries.  Not  the  less  do  we  owe  for 
his  life  and  character,  which  were  still  more  powerful 
sentences,  perpetuating  themselves  through  the  souls 
and  lives  of  his  true  followers. 

Reading  Jesus'  story  rationally,  and  seeing,  through 
all  its  distortions,  his  spirit  of  peace,  forgivenesss,  and 
love,  we  can  indeed  crown  him  as  a  Messiah,  a  man 
divinely  anointed  for  the  salvation  of  many.  Using 
that  other  title,  too,  in  a  higher  sense  than  the  Church 
has  given  it,  —  using  it  in  the  same  sense  which  he 
gave  it,  —  we  must  pronounce  him  pre-eminently  a 
"son  of  God."  And,  using  the  thought  given  by 
the  highest  philosophy,  —  and  by  the  apostle's  affirm 
ation  that  "  if  we  love  one  another,  God  dwelleth  in 
us," — we  shall  conclude  that  Jesus  was  indeed  divine, 
and  that  he  taught  how  all  men  may  become  so. 


VARIOUS    MEANINGS    OF    EASTER 


VARIOUS    MEANINGS    OF    EASTER 

"  \  V  /HAT  right  have  you  heathen  to  keep 
\\f  Easter  ? "  said  a  good  churchman  to  a 
heretic.  But  the  heathen  seem  to  have  a 
better  right  than  the  Church.  Easter  is  not  exclu 
sively  Christian,  and  originally  was  not  Christian  at 
all.  The  word  does  not  appear  in  the  Old  Testament 
or  the  New,  nor  in  Church  literature  until  rather  late ; 
and,  when  appearing,  was  only  borrowed  from  the 
heathen.  The  celebration,  too,  was  partly  borrowed 
from  northern  Europe.  Long  before  the  Teutonic 
peoples  accepted  Christianity,  or  even  heard  of  it, 
they  kept  their  Easter  festival ;  kept  it  under  the  same 
name,  and  with  many  of  the  same  customs  as  now. 
It  was  not  only  a  pagan  festival,  but  in  honor  of  a 
pagan  goddess  of  spring ;  and  our  word  Easter  is  the 
name  of  that  goddess.  The  Church  took  the  festival, 
gave  it  the  new  and  Christian  meaning  of  the  paschal 
feast,  and  tried  to  purge  it  of  its  paganism.  But  the 
latter  was  so  established,  and  has  so  survived,  that 
even  the  pagan  name  remains ;  and  the  Christian 


29o         VARIOUS    MEANINGS   OF   EASTER 

preacher  cannot  so  much  as  pronounce  the  word 
Easter  without  proclaiming  that  the  heathen  have  an 
older  and  better  claim  to  it  than  himself. 

But  even  older  than  this  worship  of  Easter  as  god 
dess  of  spring  was  another  and  still  wider  adoration 
of  her  as  goddess  of  the  morning  and  of  the  dawn. 
This  meaning  is  told  in  her  very  name,  in  most  of 
the  Indo-European  languages.  Even  in  our  own  lan 
guage,  the  root  of  Easter  is  east,  the  place  of  the 
dawn  ;  and  in  nearly  all  the  languages  of  northern 
Europe  the  words  for  Easter  come  from  an  old  root 
meaning  the  dawn.  The  same  is  seen  no  less  in  the 
more  southern  literatures  and  languages  of  Europe 
and  Asia,  although  in  them  the  root  did  not  take  that 
final  sound  of  /  which  it  added  in  the  north.  In  the 
Greek,  instead  of  our  east,  we  have  Eos,  with  the 
same  meaning  of  the  dawn  and  the  goddess  of  the 
dawn.  She  is  very  familiar  in  Homer  and  Hesiod,  — 
the  rosy-fingered  Eos,  coming  in  radiant  robes  to  bring 
the  morning  light  to  gods  and  men.  In  the  legends, 
she  is  closely  connected  with  the  various  phenomena 
of  the  morning  sky,  being  daughter  of  Hyperion 
(the  heavens),  sister  of  the  sun,  and  mother  of  the 
morning  breezes ;  and  she  is  often  figured,  on  ancient 
Greek  gems  and  vases,  driving  her  chariot  before  the 
rising  sun  and  sprinkling  the  earth  with  the  morning 


VARIOUS   MEANINGS   OF    EASTER          291 

dew.  Such  was  the  goddess  of  the  dawn  in  classic 
Greek,  —  Eos,  whose  name  still  sounds  in  our  east 
and  Easter. 

In  the  older  Greek  dialects  she  was  called,  the 
etymologists  say,  by  the  slightly  different  names  of 
Auos  and  Ausos.  The  latter  is  especially  interesting 
as  the  connecting  link  with  her  old  Latin  name,  on 
one  side,  and  with  Sanscrit,  on  the  other.  For  this 
Ausos  is  the  same  as  the  Sanscrit  Ushas,  the  goddess 
of  the  dawn  in  the  Vedic  songs  of  ancient  India.  To 
this  goddess  those  poetic  and  pious  old  Hindus  kindled 
their  morning  fires,  made  their  morning  sacrifices,  sang 
many  a  morning  psalm  of  praise  ;  and  Professor  Whit 
ney  says  "  the  hymns  to  Ushas  are  among  the  finest 
of  the  Vedas."  They  praised  her  as  the  immortal 
"daughter  of  the  sky,"  old  yet  forever  young,  reborn 
in  beauty  every  day,  —  smiling  "  mother  of  the  morn 
ing,"  coming  with  "  thy  radiant  face  and  luster  of  thy 
golden  hair ' '  to  drive  away  the  darkness  and  its 
dangers,  and  to  arouse  all  creatures  to  the  works  and 
joys  of  another  day.  This  was  the  original  Easter 
worship,  —  the  daily  thanks,  praise,  and  adoration  for 
the  dawn. 

In  that  Sanscrit  name,  Ushas,  we  also  reach  the 
root  and  earliest  known  meaning  of  the  word,  —  Ush 
and  Us,  —  meaning  flame,  and  still  heard  in  the  Latin 


292          VARIOUS    MEANINGS   OF    EASTER 

ustio,  a  burning,  and  in  the  English  "  ustion  "  and 
"  combustion  "  and  "  combustible,"  and  various  kindred 
words.  From  that  root,  meaning  flame,  all  the  names 
of  Easter  have  come.  The  Sanscrit  UsJias  and  Greek 
Ausos  simply  double  it  and  apply  it  to  the  flaming  sky 
of  the  dawn  and  to  the  goddess  there  seen. 

From  the  same  Ausos,  lengthened  into  Ausosa, 
came  the  Latin  Aurora,  who  holds  the  same  place  in 
Roman  mythology.  As  Aurora,  she  has  become  still 
more  familiar  than  Eos  in  modern  literature,  —  sung 
in  English  by  Shakespeare,  Spenser,  Milton,  Landor, 
and  others.  She  has  also  reached  much  prominence 
in  modern  art.  Burckhart  calls  Guido  Reni's  picture 
of  her  "  the  most  perfect  painting  of  the  last  two  hun 
dred  years,"  and  Hawthorne  said  it  seemed  painted 
"with  the  morning  sunshine  which  it  represents  "  ;  — 
though  Taine  prefers  Guercino's  Aurora,  with  its  frol 
icking  girls  in  front  of  her  extinguishing  the  stars, 
and  its  Cupids  tending  the  drapery  and  garland  and 
flowers  for  her  to  scatter.  For  flowers,  too,  were  con 
nected  with  Aurora,  —  from  early  pictures,  down  to 
Ramon's  graceful  girl  sipping  dew  from  the  morning- 
glory. 

But  in  the  northern  languages,  that  same  root  Aus 
added  the  sound  of  /  or  tr.  In  this  form  it  left  the 
same  name  of  the  dawn  in  a  score  of  tongues  and 


VARIOUS    MEANINGS   OF   EASTER          293 

dialects,  —  from  the  Lettic  aust  in  Russia,  across 
Europe  and  the  ocean  to  the  Icelandic  austr ;  from 
the  German  and  Norse  ost  and  ostr,  to  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  east  and  the  English  east  and  Easter.  It  was 
the  same  word,  heard  with  slight  changes,  in  the  wor 
ship  of  Scandinavians  and  Germans  and  Lithuanians, 
of  Romans  and  Greeks  and  Asiatics,  back  to  the 
old  Vedas.  Among  all,  too,  it  included  the  same 
religious  meaning,  the  same  glad  thanks  and  praise 
for  the  dawn  of  a  new  day.  This  meaning,  indeed, 
long  survived  even  in  the  Christian  Easter ;  and  E.  B. 
Tylor  told  how,  only  a  generation  ago,  the  peasants 
of  Saxony  and  Brandenburg  and  northern  Germany 
still  climbed  the  hilltops  on  Easter  morning  to  watch 
for  the  dawn,  and  built  their  bonfires  to  it,  as  they  did 
in  heathen  Hellas  and  ancient  India  in  honor  of  the 
same  goddess,  Eos  or  Ausos  or  Ushas. 

That  old  worship  is  now  dead;  and  not  only  in 
English,  but  in  most  of  the  northern  languages,  that 
old  name  of  the  deified  dawn  has  come  to  mean 
mainly  the  place  where  she  appeared,  —  a  mere  point 
of  the  compass.  But  the  poet  and  the  scholar  cannot 
speak  that  word  "  east "  without  remembering  the 
time  when  east  was  Easter,  too,  —  when  the  eastern 
sky  was  all  alive  with  the  presence  of  a  glorious  god 
dess,  robed  in  gold  and  purple,  and  radiant  with  beauty, 


294          VARIOUS   MEANINGS   OF    EASTER 

as  she  rose  to  wake  the  world  and  call  mankind  to 
their  morning  worship. 

That  worship  is  one  still  worth  commemorating  on 
Easter  day.  It  helps  the  feeling  of  charity  and  human 
brotherhood  to  remember  how  all  these  scores  of 
peoples,  from  Iceland  back  to  India,  have  shared  in 
the  same  worship,  and  still  preserve  its  words  with  so 
little  change  in  their  divers  languages.  The  Church 
once  had  a  long  and  bitter  quarrel  and  division  over 
the  Easter  question.  But  the  word  itself  rebukes 
such  division,  telling  how  the  worshipers,  not  only  of 
the  Christian  Jesus,  but  of  the  Roman  Jove  and  the 
Greek  Apollo,  and  of  many  heathen  gods,  from  the 
Norse  Odin  to  the  Vedic  Indra,  —  have  all  been  allied, 
speaking  the  same  language,  feeling  the  same  religion 
of  thanks  for  the  morn  and  of  praise  for  its  Maker. 
For  certainly  this  feeling  was  just  as  religious  under 
a  Greek  or  a  German  name,  as  under  a  Jewish. 

Indeed,  those  pagan  songs  in  praise  of  the  god  of 
the  sunrise  were  quite  like  the  familiar  Hebrew  Psalm, 
"The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,"  and  "in 
them  hath  he  set  a  tabernacle  for  the  sun,  that  com- 
eth  forth  like  a  bridegroom  from  his  chamber,  and 
rejoiceth  like  a  strong  man  to  run  his  course."  That 
pagan  adoration  of  the  dawn  was  not  very  different 
from  Job's,  telling  how  the  same  "  day-spring  "  know- 


VARIOUS    MEANINGS   OF   EASTER          295 

eth  its  place  ;  —  and  the  old  Latin  Bible,  the  Vulgate, 
even  renders  this  day-spring  "  Aurora."  The  pagan 
praise  of  the  blessings  and  beauty  of  the  dawn 
was  far  more  religious  than  the  medieval  catechism 
which  taught  that  its  ruddy  colors  were  the  reflection 
from  the  flames  of  hell  below  the  horizon,  and  than 
the  modern  confession  of  faith  which  accuses  God  of 
punishing  most  of  mankind  in  them.  Jesus  himself 
rebuked  such  thought,  and  took  the  dawn  to  illustrate 
the  impartiality  and  perfection  of  the  heavenly  Father 
who  "  maketh  his  sun  to  rise  on  the  evil  and  on  the 
good." 

Not  only  was  that  adoration  of  the  dawn  religious, 
but  the  poet  still  partakes  in  it.     Nor  can  the  most 
prosaic  or  pessimistic  soul  fail  to  feel  some  joyous 
wonder  and  worship  at  the  coming  of  the  sunrise,  — 
when  suddenly,  as  W.  W.  Story  sang : 

"  There's  a  sparkle  o'er  leagues  of  seas, 

There's  a  rustle  through  miles  of  trees, 
Life  returns  and  the  earth  rejoices, 
The  air  is  astir  with  the  murmur  of  voices  ; 
There's  the  low  of  a  thousand  herds 

Feeding  on  fertile  meadows  ; 
There's  the  joy  of  a  myriad  birds 
Darting  through  leafy  shadows. 
Night  with  its  shadow  of  death  is  done  ;  — 
The  great  new  wondrous  day  has  begun." 


296          VARIOUS    MEANINGS    OF    EASTER 

And  though  we  may  no  longer  see  in  the  radiant 
colors  of  the  dawn  the  wondrous  robes  of  a  goddess, 
yet  even  science  has  revealed  greater  wonders  in  the 
light  that  wove  them.  This  light  shoots  its  ceaseless 
shuttles  through  millions  of  miles,  swifter  than  any 
goddess  of  old  legend ;  and,  with  the  mere  waves  of 
ether  for  its  loom,  threads  through  the  warp  of  mist 
and  haze  to  make  that  brilliant  and  ever  changing 
web,  new  every  morning  and  fresh  every  evening.  In 
this  wondrous  weaving,  science  has  shown  a  new 
revelation  of  the  God  of  the  Psalmist,  "  who  coverest 
thyself  with  light  as  with  a  garment,  who  stretchest 
out  the  heavens  like  a  curtain."  We  feel  this  God 
still  here,  too,  and  can  sing  the  modern  hymn  : 

"  Still,  still  with  thee,  when  purple  morning  breaketh, 
When  the  bird  waketh  and  the  shadows  flee  ;  — 
Fairer  than  morning,  lovelier  than  the  daylight, 
Dawns  the  sweet  consciousness,  I  am  with  thee." 

It  is  the  same  power  which  those  old  Vedic  worship 
ers  sang  in  their  morning  hymns,  and  which  Greek 
and  Roman  poets  praised  in  their  radiant  Eos  and 
golden-haired  Aurora.  We  can  still  keep  that  original 
Easter-worship  of  the  goddess  of  Dawn. 

But   t{iis   Easter    in    time  took  another   meaning. 
She  became  the  goddess,  not  merely  of  the  morning, 


VARIOUS    MEANINGS   OF   EASTER          297 

and  dawn  of  a  new  light,  but  of  the  spring,  and  dawn 
of  a  new  life  in  Nature.  The  change  was  natural,  for 
the  two  events  are  parallel.  Their  likeness  is  told 
even  in  our  language.  The  word  for  dawn  in  old 
English,  and  in  our  English  Bibles,  is  "  day-spring," 
—  the  spring  of  the  day,  corresponding  to  the  year- 
spring.  One  means  the  rising  of  the  sun  from  the 
unseen  sky  to  reach  our  horizon,  and  the  other  its 
rising  from  the  southern  sky  to  reach  our  own  hemi 
sphere  at  the  vernal  equinox.  One  means  the  resurrec 
tion  of  Nature  from  the  darkness  and  death  of  night, 
to  the  light  and  life  of  morning ;  the  other  means  its 
resurrection  from  the  worse  death  of  winter,  to  the 
warmth  and  life  of  May.  So  the  same  Easter  who 
had  brought  the  resurrection  of  the  day  came  to  be 
represented  as  bringing  this  resurrection  of  the  year. 
In  the  latter,  as  in  the  former,  she  was  rightly  figured 
as  a  goddess,  clothed  in  beauty.  Still  better  than  in 
her  fleeting  robes  of  the  morning  sky,  she  now  wove 
a  more  real  robe  for  the  earth  itself,  clothing  fields 
and  forests  in  foliage  for  the  whole  season,  and  em 
broidering  it  with  flowers  that  kept  their  colors  when 
the  hues  of  dawn  had  disappeared. 

Naturally  too,  this  new  meaning  of  Easter  appears 
especially  in  the  northern  nations,  where  winter  was 
so  much  more  severe  and  the  resurrection  from  it  so 


298          VARIOUS   MEANINGS   OF   EASTER 

much  more  welcome.  So  while  southern  peoples 
adored  her  chiefly  in  the  dawn,  this  older  meaning 
was  largely  forgotten  among  the  Teutonic  races,  and 
she  became  almost  entirely  the  goddess  of  spring.  At 
this  season  they  kept  her  festival  with  fit  offerings  of 
flowers  and  seeds  and  various  emblems  of  the  new 
life  of  Nature,  together  with  the  many  joyous  customs 
telling  of  the  gladness  that  it  brought.  Such  was 
the  Easter  which  the  Christian  church  found  estab 
lished  among  those  northern  heathen,  and  to  which  it 
added  the  meaning  of  Jesus'  resurrection  and  the 
paschal  feast. 

But  even  that  paschal  feast  seems  to  have  had 
originally  a  somewhat  similar  meaning.  It  came  from 
the  Hebrew  passover,  which  is  regarded  by  many 
scholars  as  having  been  at  first  a  mere  festival  in 
honor  of  spring.  It  was  dated  by  the  spring  equinox, 
when  the  Hebrews,  like  so  many  other  peoples,  began 
their  new  year.  Even  its  Hebrew  name,  Pesach, 
meaning  a  passing,  is  regarded  by  many  as  referring 
to  the  sun  then  passing  the  equator  to  the  northern 
heavens  and  the  new  year,  —  just  as  we  still  speak  of 
its  "crossing  the  line."  Like  the  heathen  Easter,  this 
great  Hebrew  festival  was  kept  with  spring  offerings 
of  different  kinds,  —  not  so  much,  however,  from  the 
fields  as  from  the  flocks,  as  was  natural  in  their  ancient 


VARIOUS    MEANINGS   OF    EASTER          299 

pastoral  life.  The  chief  offerings  were  of  course  of 
the  new  lambs,  each  family  slaying  and  eating  its  own 
with  grateful  joy ;  and  Josephus  says  that  in  his  time 
two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  were  so  slain  at  a 
passover.  Their  blood  was  from  of  old  sprinkled  on 
the  door-posts  of  the  houses  at  this  beginning  of  the 
year,  probably  for  its  supposed  purifying  and  protect 
ing  influence,  as  was  the  custom  of  so  many  ancient 
peoples.  But  in  the  course  of  centuries,  this  spring 
festival  of  the  Hebrews  lost  its  original  meaning,  and 
came  to  be  interpreted  as  commemorating  that  chief 
event  in  their  traditions,  the  deliverance  from  Egypt. 
It  came  to  be  thought  that  the  eating  of  the  lamb 
commemorated  the  last  supper  before  their  depart 
ure  ;  and  that  the  name  of  the  feast  referred  to  the 
legend  of  the  Lord  passing  over  the  houses  where 
the  blood  was  sprinkled. 

So  every  spring,  that  equinoctial  month  became 
doubly  sacred ;  and  in  the  middle  of  the  month,  at 
its  full  moon,  the  Jews  kept  their  great  feast  of  the 
passover,  —  their  Pesach,  which  became  PascJia  in  the 
Greek.  And,  one  year,  in  that  paschal  week,  Jesus 
is  said  to  have  been  slain ;  —  his  death  occurring, 
according  to  the  first  three  gospels,  the  day  after  the 
feast,  —  or  on  the  day  of  the  feast,  according  to  the 
fourth.  Hence  the  first  day  of  the  following  week 


300         VARIOUS    MEANINGS   OF   EASTER 

came  at  length  to  be  kept  in  the  Church  as  the  festi 
val  of  his  resurrection. 

This  was  the  new  meaning  which  the  Christian 
Church  added  to  the  old  heathen  festival  of  Easter, 
and  which  has  become  its  chief  meaning  in  Christen 
dom.  Every  year,  at  the  first  full  moon  after  the  sun 
reaches  the  vernal  equinox,  the  Jews  still  keep  their 
ancient  passover.  And  the  next  Sunday,  the  Chris 
tians  keep  Easter,  —  but  with  its  old  meanings  largely 
forgotten.  They  feel  no  excessive  sympathy  for  the 
Jews,  whose  holy  week  underlies  the  Christian.  They 
keep  many  customs  of  the  older  festival  of  spring,  but 
with  no  sympathy  for  the  heathen  religions  that  made 
so  much  of  it ;  while  they  ignore  the  original  meaning 
of  Easter  as  an  adoration  of  the  divine  power  in  the 
dawn.  They  make  it  mainly,  and  often  almost  solely, 
a  commemoration  of  Jesus  and  his  resurrection. 

Would  it  not  be  better  to  keep  all  these  meanings 
and  celebrate  all  these  resurrections  ?  We  have  seen 
how  full  of  marvel  and  beauty  is  the  first,  —  the  resur 
rection  of  the  "day-spring"  from  the  darkness  and 
death  of  night.  No  less  so  is  the  second,  —  the  res 
urrection  of  the  year-spring  from  the  death  of  winter. 
Here  is  something  diviner  than  the  Hebrew  deliver 
ance  from  the  bondage  of  Egypt.  Quite  as  marvel- 


VARIOUS   MEANINGS   OF    EASTER          301 

ous  as  and  far  more  beneficent  than  Moses'  rod  waved 
over  the  waters  to  turn  them  into  blood,  or  raised  to 
drown  the  Egyptians,  are  the  rods  on  every  tree  rais 
ing  the  waters  for  the  leaves  and  life  of  another  season. 
The  God  of  the  world  is  delivering,  not  merely  one 
people,  but  all  nations  and  Nature  from  the  bondage 
of  death.  In  swelling  bud  and  seed,  the  God  of 
Nature  is  providing  a  paschal  feast  for  all  communi 
cants,  Christian  and  pagan,  and  for  all  creatures,  — 
with  a  divine  impartiality  which  makes  our  creeds 
seem  cruel  and  profane  in  comparison.  And  the  nat 
ural  feelings  of  gratitude  and  joy  with  which  we  greet 
these  miracles  are  quite  as  religious  as  any  ancient 
ceremonies.  When  a  little  girl  once  jubilantly  brought 
me  a  green  grass-blade  plucked  from  beneath  the 
melting  snow,  it  seemed  just  as  much  a  worship,  and 
the  same  worship,  as  when  the  ancient  Israelites 
brought  their  spring  offerings  to  the  altar.  Our  nat 
ural  delight  in  the  spring  blossoms  and  singing  of  the 
birds  is  a  better  worship  than  any  animal  sacrifice, 
and  is  far  better  than  any  belief  that  the  Lord  has 
demanded  the  blood  of  his  own  son.  We  may  well 
celebrate  this  Easter  resurrection  of  life. 

We  may  well  commemorate  the  resurrection  of 
Jesus,  too.  Not  necessarily  the  resurrection  of  his 
dead  body,  which  not  even  Paul  seems  ever  to  have 


302          VARIOUS   MEANINGS   OF   EASTER 

believed ;  but  his  spiritual  resurrection,  greater  than 
Paul  taught.  For  Jesus'  spiritual  influence  and  power 
has  lived  far  longer  than  the  disciples  thought  the 
world  was  going  to,  and  has  spread  through  wide  lands 
whose  existence  they  never  dreamed  of.  His  words 
are  read  around  the  world  every  day,  and  something 
of  his  spirit  survives  with  them.  For  though  Chris 
tendom  has  often  by  its  doctrines  denied  him  worse 
than  Peter  did,  and  by  its  cruelties  crucified  him  over 
and  over  again  ;  though  it  has  often  laid  him  in  the 
sepulcher  and  sealed  the  door  until  resurrection  seemed 
impossible  ;  —  still  his  spirit  has  survived  through  all, 
and  has  ever  been  going  forth,  like  his  rising  in  the 
story,  to  inspire  deeds  of  love,  and  to  work  on  with 
an  undying  life  that  makes  the  story  of  his  bodily 
resurrection  seem  of  no  account  in  comparison. 

The  same  is  true  of  countless  others,  in  various 
degrees.  John  Brown's  body  lay  a-mouldering  in  the 
ground,  but  his  soul  went  marching  on ;  —  has  been 
ever  since,  and  will  for  centuries  to  come.  Theodore 
Parker,  when  dying  in  Florence,  said,  "  You  may  bury 
me  here,  but  the  true  Theodore  Parker  is  in  Boston, 
and  will  live  and  grow  there  "  ;  —  and  he  has  lived  and 
grown  in  many  other  towns.  Heber  Newton  tells 
how,  after  a  memorable  Easter  service  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  he  went  forth  feeling  that  England's  great 


VARIOUS    MEANINGS   OF   EASTER          303 

dead  were  not  sleeping  there  in  their  tombs,  "waiting 
for  the  archangel's  trump,  but  that  in  the  living  civiliza 
tion  they  lived  on,  immortally  alive."  Of  common 
people,  too,  he  said  :  "  A  sainted  mother,  a  noble 
father,  a  mated  soul  torn  from  the  side,  a  child  whom 
men  call  dead,  walk  before  us,  leading  us  by  the  hand. 
Our  best  influences  flow  from  them  ;  our  highest 
aspirations  they  waken  in  us." 

That  is  the  resurrection  that  most  appeals  to  my 
feelings,  as  the  best.  That  seems  to  me  much  the 
noblest  and  most  desirable  survival ;  —  to  live  on  as 
a  joyous  memory  and  influence  in  the  hearts  and 
lives  of  friends  and  acquaintances ;  to  be 

"  Of  those  immortal  dead  who  live  again 
In  minds  made  better  by  their  presence,  live 
In  pulses  stirred  to  generosity, 
In  deeds  of  daring  rectitude,  in  scorn 
For  miserable  aims  that  end  with  self"; 

and  so 

"  to  join  the  choir  invisible 
Whose  music  is  the  gladness  of  the  world." 

Nor  does  this  thought  at  all  deny  that  personal  res 
urrection  which  is  the  theme  of  most  Easter  sermons. 
That  is  not  denied  by  science  itself ;  —  and  even  if  it 
were,  might  still  be  true.  For  science  is  not  infallible, 
but,  as  Holmes  said  of  chemistry,  is  ever  "  spoiling  on 


304         VARIOUS    MEANINGS   OF   EASTER 

our  hands."  We  have  heard  of  the  book  which  proved 
by  exact  science  that  no  steamer  could  cross  the 
Atlantic,  but  was  afterward  brought  across  in  one,  — 
and  brought  to  a  continent  whose  very  existence  both 
science  and  religion  had  denied.  So  if  science  should 
prove  that  the  soul  cannot  cross  the  ocean  of  death, 
it  might  still  cross,  and  find  a  solider  continent  than 
religion  ever  told. 

But  science  has  not  so  proved.  Even  Huxley  said 
that  science  had  found  nothing  new  to  say  against 
immortality,  and  many  a  scientist  has  told  us  that  in 
the  nature  of  things  it  never  can.  On  this  question, 
science  is  only  agnostic.  It  is  even  better  than  ag 
nostic,  by  showing  such  miraculous  powers  in  Nature. 
Though  arousing  doubts  of  what  is  not  seen,  it  has 
more  than  met  those  doubts  by  asserting  unseen 
things  all  about  us,  more  active  than  the  seen.  It 
tells  of  germs  never  seen,  yet  real  as  rocks,  and  sure 
of  resurrection.  It  says  these  germs  are  made  of 
atoms  a  thousand  times  finer  still,  —  yet  substantial 
as  the  sun,  and  more  enduring  than  the  stars. 

It  even  shows  things  growing  more  active  as  they 
become  unseen.  The  apostle  compared  life  to  a  vapor 
vanishing  away ;  but  vapor  proves  to  be  the  most 
powerful  form  of  matter,  and  vanishing  to  be  a  sign 
of  vigor.  Even  gunpowder  can  do  nothing  until 


VARIOUS    MEANINGS   OF   EASTER          305 

vanishing  in  vapor,  and  the  cannon-ball  is  harmless 
until  it  gets  a  gas  behind  it,  —  the  more  smokeless 
and  invisible  the  surer.  Air  is  invisible  vapor ;  yet 
it  builds  the  forests,  and  can  blow  them  down,  or  pick 
up  a  town  in  a  tornado.  Water  must  put  on  utter 
invisibility  in  the  boiler  before  it  can  draw  the  train. 
Still  more  active  does  it  become  when  dissolved  into 
its  elements,  —  and  one  of  those  invisible  hydrogen 
atoms,  as  some  scientists  describe  it,  is  about  the 
liveliest  thing  in  the  universe.  The  celestial  ether, 
according  to  modern  theory,  is  rather  the  nearest  to 
nothing  of  all  existences,  yet  the  most  energetic. 
Matter  seems  to  grow  vigorous  by  vanishing,  and  to 
be  most  active  when  on  the  edge  of  annihilation. 
This  evidence  of  things  growing  active  as  they  slip 
beyond  the  reach  of  sense  and  of  science  tells  us  not 
to  be  alarmed  because  we  cannot  follow  a  man  after 
death. 

Especially  when  we  remember  that  we  have  never 
been  able  to  find  him  before  death  !  For  this  human 
spirit,  with  all  its  powers,  is  yet  airier  than  ether, 
more  invisible  than  any  atom,  found  by  neither  lens 
nor  logic,  eluding  physics  and  metaphysics  alike,  so 
that  even  Tyndall  said  it  is  no  more  understood  to 
day  than  before  science  began.  Yet  it  is  the  solidest 
and  surest  thing  on  earth,  mastering  everything  else. 


306          VARIOUS    MEANINGS   OF   EASTER 

Nor  need  we  be  alarmed  because  it  now  seems  so 
dependent  on  body,  or  even  produced  by  brain.  So 
is  every  seed  dependent  on  and  produced  by  its  parent 
plant,  yet  leaves  it  for  a  larger  life.  Spirit  gets  along 
without  much  body  even  now ;  and  Sydney  Smith  told 
of  the  gifted  little  Englishman  who  didn't  have  body 
enough  to  cover  his  mind,  but  went  about  with  his 
intellect  improperly  exposed.  Spirit  shines  in  diseased 
bodies,  —  from  the  paralyzed  Heine  producing  all  those 
poems  from  his  "mattress  grave,"  to  the  two  Amer 
ican  geniuses  who  had  "only  one  lung  between  them." 
It  is  active  in  sleeping  bodies ;  from  Coleridge,  who 
composed  his  finest  poem  in  a  dream,  to  the  many 
cases  where  sleeping  men  have  solved  problems  and 
written  arguments  as  they  could  not  in  waking  hours. 
It  is  active  even  in  dying  bodies.  Indeed,  we  are 
dying  all  the  while,  the  doctors  say ;  —  have  had  our 
bodies  destroyed  several  times  already,  and  would 
have  been  in  our  graves  long  ago  but  for  this  con 
stant  destruction  that  keeps  us  alive. 

As  Emerson  was  not  alarmed  because  the  world 
was  going  to  end  the  next  week,  but  said  we  could 
get  along  better  without  it,  so  perhaps  we  can  without 
this  muddy  "vesture  of  decay"  which  grossly  hems 
us  in.  Alfred  de  Musset,  praising  the  soul's  infinite 
superiority  to  a  piano  of  Erard  or  violin  of  Stradi- 


VARIOUS    MEANINGS   OF   EASTER          307 

varius,  said  life  might  be  but  the  opening  bar  of  the 
melody,  or  even  but  the  tuning  of  the  instrument. 
Science  itself  is  full  of  hints  of  unseen  worlds.  Cyrus 
Field  tells  of  the  night  when,  after  weeks  of  searching 
in  mid-ocean  for  that  broken  cable,  the  grapnel  finally 
caught  it.  Slowly  from  the  sea-bottom,  miles  beneath, 
they  lifted  it  hour  after  hour,  and  at  last  drew  it  to 
the  deck.  They  could  hardly  trust  their  eyes,  but 
crept  to  feel  it  and  make  sure,  —  while  strong  men 
wept  and  the  midnight  darkness  was  rent  with  cheers 
and  rockets.  Even  then  they  feared  the  cable  was 
broken  somewhere  else  in  its  long  course  to  land. 
But  at  length  their  tests  were  answered  by  a  feeble 
spark  flashed  from  a  key  a  thousand  miles  away, 
assuring  them  that  the  line  was  sound  ;  and  soon  there 
came  a  message  telling  him  of  the  safety  of  the  dear 
ones  he  had  left  by  the  Hudson. 

We  and  our  earth  float  like  a  ship  on  the  mysteri 
ous  sea  of  being,  whose  depths  the  grapnel  of  science 
does  not  sound,  and  we  cannot  expect  to  find  a  solid 
line  of  logic  connecting  with  an  unseen  world.  But 
there  still  flash  at  times,  through  feelings  stronger 
than  cables  and  diviner  than  electric  currents,  intima 
tions  that  vanished  souls  are  on  solider  ground  than 
we,  and  that  all  are  safe  in  the  eternal  Law  and 
Love. 


308          VARIOUS    MEANINGS   OF   EASTER 

"  A  thread  of  Law  runs  through  our  prayer, 
Stronger  than  iron  cables  are  ; 
And  love  and  longing  towards  her  goal 
Are  pilots  sweet  to  guide  the  soul. 

"  For  Life  must  live,  and  Soul  must  sail, 
And  Unseen  over  seen  prevail  ; 
And  all  God's  argosies  come  to  shore, 
Let  ocean  smile,  or  rage,  or  roar." 


THE    NEW    YEAR    OF    RELIGION 


THE    NEW    YEAR    OF    RELIGION 

RLL  life  has  its  seasons,  its  springs  and  falls. 
Even  lifeless  movement  shows  something  sim 
ilar,  in  the  rise  and  fall  of  its  rhythmic  waves. 
These  are  found  everywhere,  from  the  ripples  of  the 
pond  and  billows  of  the  wheatfield  in  the  breeze,  to 
the  -unseen  waves  of  sound  in  the  air  and  of  light  in 
the  ether.  There  are  tides,  too,  not  only  in  the  sea, 
but  in  the  periodic  winds,  —  even  in  the  sunlight  with 
its  daily  ebb  and  flow,  and  in  the  life  of  the  field 
ebbing  in  autumn  and  swelling  in  spring.  Every 
where  are  seasons,  from  these  of  the  year,  to  the  vast 
ones  of  geologic  story,  whose  days  were  millenniums 
and  whose  winters  were  long  glacial  ages. 

The  same  principle  prevails  in  society.  Trade  has 
its  tides  of  inflation  and  depression,  slow,  but  sure  as 
those  of  the  sea.  The  records  of  industries,  prices, 
wages,  even  crimes,  when  reduced  to  diagrams,  always 
show  series  of  waves.  The  same  principle  is  seen  in 
each  person  ;  —  from  the  pulse-beats  in  his  blood,  and 
ebb  and  flow  of  his  breath,  to  his  alternations  of  sleep 


312       THE   NEW   YEAR   OF    RELIGION 

and  waking,  and  of  toil  and  rest  when  awake.  It  is 
seen  also  in  his  mental  and  moral  life,  —  fertile  thought 
being  followed  by  fatigue,  and  every  enthusiasm  by  a 
reaction.  It  is  seen  no  less  in  his  religion.  Even 
sanctity  has  its  tides.  Robert  Collyer  used  to  tell 
how  a  devoted  minister,  when  asked  at  his  ordination 
if  he  was  eager  to  save  sinners,  frankly  replied  that 
he  sometimes  was,  but  sometimes  did  not  care  if  Satan 
got  them  all.  The  Methodist  theory  of  backslidings 
and  revivals  is  quite  scientific.  Religion,  like  all  life, 
has  its  noons  and  nights,  its  growing  Aprils  and  drying 
autumns,  its  summers  of  warm  devotion  and  its  winters 
of  freezing  doubt  and  denial. 

But  beneath  these  fluctuations  are  far  larger  ones, 
where  the  seasons  are  centuries.  John  Stuart  Mill 
divided  religious  history  into  long  "organic  periods" 
of  growth  and  long  "  critical  periods  "  of  negation. 
He  said  such  an  organic  period  was  seen  in  Greek 
and  Roman  polytheism,  and  was  followed  by  a  critical 
one  under  the  philosophers.  He  said  another  organic 
period  came  with  Christianity  and  lasted  until  the 
Reformation  ;  —  when  another  critical  period  began, 
which  has  lasted  ever  since.  Mr.  Mill's  "periods" 
are  but  the  alternating  seasons  of  religion's  life,  —  the 
summer  and  winter  of  that  Power  with  whom  "a 
thousand  years  are  as  one  day."  It  was  indeed  a 


THE   NEW   YEAR   OF    RELIGION       313 

fertile  summer  when  the  Greek  religion  bore  its  lux 
uriant  foliage  of  fancies  and  legends,  and  its  more 
lasting  fruit  in  temples,  statues,  and  poems  never  since 
surpassed.  It  was  another  summer  when  Christianity 
leaved  out  in  new  beliefs  and  customs,  and  blossomed 
in  beautiful  churches  which  bore  so  many  fruits. 

That  summer  lasted  many  centuries.  It  was  not 
only  fertile  with  growth,  but  warm  with  fervent  faith 
and  often  fiery  zeal.  Its  zeal  inspired  men  not  only 
to  build  majestic  cathedrals  among  their  own  hovels, 
but  to  fight  against  heathen  and  heretics,  and  to  die 
for  their  church  as  they  would  for  their  wives  and 
children.  Its  faith  filled  the  people  and  made 
them  sure  their  doctrines  would  last  forever.  The 
Athanasian  creed  calmly  condemned  to  perdition  all 
who  would  not  believe  it,  and  the  Church  dogmas  long 
kept  their  freshness  not  only  in  Catholic,  but  in 
Protestant  lands.  Even  Milton  wrote  of  Adam's  fall 
as  a  historic  fact,  no  more  to  be  doubted  than  Crom 
well's  deeds.  Depravity  and  damnation  seemed  as 
sure.  "  The  one  supreme  poem  of  Puritan  New  Eng 
land,"  as  our  historian  terms  it,  was  Wiggles  worth's 
"  Day  of  Doom  "  which  consigned  to  everlasting  pun 
ishment  even  infants  who  died  before  they  reached 
the  cradle.  Lowell  tells  how  this  poem  was  read  and 
learned  and  sung, — "the  solace  of  every  fireside"; 


3H      THE    NEW   YEAR   OF    RELIGION 

and  Cotton  Mather  predicted  that  its  popularity  would 
continue  until  the  judgment-day  itself.  So  little 
thought  was  there  that  the  theological  foliage  of  that 
long  summer  could  ever  fall  or  fade. 

But  it  had  to.  It  could  no  more  last  forever  than 
can  July.  The  autumnal  air  of  cool  criticism  came 
to  kill  whatever  could  not  withstand  it,  and  many  a 
medieval  doctrine  withered  and  died.  That  so  popular 
poem,  which  was  to  flourish  till  "the  day  of  doom," 
has  fallen  into  such  oblivion  that  it  is  now  hard  to 
find ;  and  its  teachings  have  become  so  repugnant 
that  many  a  preacher  says  they  were  never  taught. 
"  Paradise  Lost "  is  read  no  longer  for  its  theology, 
but  only  for  its  poetry,  and  many  so  dislike  its  theology 
that  they  cannot  see  the  poetry,  "Adam's  fall"  is 
nearly  forgotten,  and  to  many  Christians  Adam  him 
self  has  become  more  mythical  than  Admetus.  That 
Athanasian  creed  is  condemned  by  half  the  Church. 
Even  the  Westminster  Confession  has  seen  a  large 
part  of  its  professors  eager  to  revise  it ;  and  many 
who  objected  did  so  from  the  foresight  that  revision 
would  leave  so  little  of  it.  With  this  disuse  of  dogmas 
has  also  come  that  of  various  observances. 

Of  course,  this  doctrinal  and  ritual  foliage  has  not 
fallen  everywhere.  In  many  a  retired  garden  and 
church  conservatory  it  is  kept  still  fresh.  But,  where 


THE   NEW    YEAR   OF    RELIGION       315 

freely  exposed  to  the  open  air  of  thought,  much  of  it 
has  withered.  Poetic  people  have  continued  to  see 
beauty  in  it,  as  they  do  in  the  October  foliage ;  and 
many  seek  to  preserve  it,  like  colored  leaves  upon 
their  walls,  —  but  for  ornament  rather  than  real  use. 
Coarser  men,  however,  have  seen  no  attraction  in 
these  falling  forms,  but  have  rudely  trampled  them 
under  foot  and  rejoiced  in  their  rustling.  Some  have 
boyishly  sought  to  make  a  huge  halloween  bonfire  of 
them  all.  And  not  only  has  so  much  of  the  religious 
foliage  fallen,  but  the  air  has  lost  its  emotional  warmth, 
and  sometimes  sends  the  more  mercurial  spirits  among 
us  down  to  zero  and  below.  The  whiter  season  of 
religion  has  arrived. 

Nor  can  we  escape  it.  These  changes  are  some 
thing  which  we  cannot  stop,  any  more  than  we  can 
stop  the  sinking  of  the  sun  in  the  sky.  Many  preach 
ers  tell  us  to  cling  to  the  old  beliefs,  and  not  let  them 
go.  They  might  as  well  tell  us  not  to  let  the  leaves 
go  from  our  maples  in  November.  Our  wills  have 
little  to  do  with  the  process.  When  the  sap  of  sincere 
thought  and  feeling  ceases  to  circulate  through  any 
Church  doctrines  or  ceremonies,  they  might  as  well 
drop.  We  may  cling  to  them,  as  many  a  tree  does  to 
its  dead  leaves ;  but  they  do  not  help  us,  and  their 
rustle  is  not  religion.  Real  religion  must  have  life 


316       THE    NEW    YEAR   OF   RELIGION 

and  sincerity ;  and,  when  the  winter  comes,  we  may 
as  well  admit  it. 

We  may  even  welcome  it,  for  it  comes  for  good. 
We  do  not  want  hot  summer  all  the  year.  A  season 
of  it  is  necessary;  but,  if  prolonged,  it  becomes  un 
healthy.  In  religion,  as  in  life,  autumn  is  wanted  to 
check  disease,  and  winter  to  kill  its  germs  more  com 
pletely  and  to  brace  our  systems  to  a  higher  health. 
Warm  seasons  of  feeling,  and  even  hotter  days  of 
fervor,  are  helpful  to  religious  growth ;  but,  if  too 
long,  they  weaken  us,  and  breed  fevers  in  our  souls 
and  all  sorts  of  spiritual  epidemics  in  society.  The 
emotional  needs  to  be  followed  by  an  intellectual 
revival,  excitement  by  cool  criticism,  and  fervor  by  a 
touch  of  frost,  to  check  the  fevers  that  summer  has 
started.  Warm  feeling  is  indispensable  for  softening 
us,  but  so  are  the  cooling  breezes  of  free  thought  fof 
bracing  us  up.  Revival-meetings  are  good  in  their 
place,  but  so  are  science  and  skepticism  in  theirs.  In 
religion,  as  in  the  calendar,  spring  and  fall  are  alike 
natural  and  necessary ;  and  January  is  just  as  divine 
as  June. 

So  it  has  proved  in  history.  The  medieval  mid 
summer  of  devotion  and  zeal,  however  serviceable  to 
religion,  was  no  more  so  than  the  subsequent  Novem 
ber  season  of  skepticism.  For  zeal,  —  like  the  fire 


THE    NEW   YEAR   OF    RELIGION       317 

which  typifies  it,  —  though  a  most  blessed  thing,  needs 
most  of  all  things  to  be  wisely  controlled,  or  it  will 
burn  us  up.  Indeed,  that  old  Church  zeal  did  burn 
altogether  too  much.  It  set  hearts  on  fire,  not  only 
with  love  for  their  own  doctrines,  but  with  hate  for 
all  others.  It  made  men  eager  to  burn,  not  only  the 
hated  doctrines,  but  the  people  who  held  them.  And 
it  would  have  gone  on  burning,  had  not  criticism  come, 
like  autumnal  rains,  to  put  out  .the  fires.  Those 
eighteenth-century  skeptics  who  so  chilled  Church 
zeal  by  their  free  use  of  reason  and  ridicule,  by  that 
same  process  put  an  end  to  intolerances  and  inhuman 
ities  which  the  Church  had  allowed  for  centuries,  and 
some  of  which  it  had  established.  Even  Voltaire  did 
so  good  a  work  in  this  way  that  Lecky  said  he  had 
done  "  more  to  destroy  the  greatest  of  human  curses 
than  any  other  of  the  sons  of  men."  So  Lowell  said 
of  him,  "  We  owe  half  our  freedom  now  to  the  leering 
old  mocker."  Even  Professor  Jowett,  as  twice  re 
corded  in  his  biography,  said,  "  Voltaire  has  done  more 
good  than  all  the  Fathers  of  the  Church  put  together." 
In  view  of  all  that  skepticism  has  done  to  overthrow 
intolerance  and  bring  a  larger  charity,  we  ought  not 
to  complain  of  its  low  temperature,  but  give  thanks 
for  the  winter,  too,  however  much  it  may  have  weak 
ened  the  religious  life. 


318       THE    NEW   YEAR   OF    RELIGION 

Nor  has  it  weakened  the  real  religious  life,  but 
proved  its  permanence  and  power.  Even  vegetable 
life  is  not  lost  in  winter,  but  only  withdrawn  from  the 
surface  to  show  its  endurance  better  than  in  other  sea 
sons.  The  leaves  fostered  by  the  June  sun  are  no  such 
proof  of  vitality  as  are  the  little  buds  safely  facing 
the  December  storms.  The  fruits  swelling  in  the 
summer  days  are  no  such  proof  as  are  the  minute  seeds 
blown  about  for  months  amid  the  snows,  or  locked  in 
frozen  soil,  but  only  to  start  again  into  new  shoots. 
It  is  the  winter  rather  than  the  summer  that  tells  the 
strength  of  vegetable  life. 

In  like  manner  the  religious  life  is  shown  better  in 
its  critical  January  than  in  its  credulous  June.  Relig 
ion  flowering  in  churches  and  fruiting  in  deeds  of 
devotion,  when  its  midsummer  faith  forced  it  into 
activity,  did  not  begin  to  show  its  strength  so  well  as 
when  —  though  stripped  of  its  old  forms  and  faith 
—  it  still  kept  its  real  life  of  righteousness  and  love. 
It  would  seem  easy  for  men  to  be  saints  when  they 
had  those  medieval  fears  and  hopes  to  help  them. 
But  were  they  any  more  saintly  than  the  skeptics 
themselves  ?  Contrasting  the  two,  Macaulay  says, 
"  On  one  side  was  a  Church  boasting  of  the  purity  of 
a  doctrine  derived  from  the  apostles,  but  disgraced  by 
the  massacre  of  Saint  Bartholomew  :  on  the  other 


THE    NEW    YEAR   OF    RELIGION       319 

side  was  a  sect  laughing  at  the  Scriptures,  shooting 
out  the  tongue  at  the  sacraments,  but  ready  to  en 
counter  principalities  and  powers  in  the  cause  of 
justice,  mercy,  and  toleration."  In  these  essential 
things  the  skeptics  appeared  the  more  religious  of 
the  two.  And,  since  then,  how  many  men  called 
infidels  have  still  been  leading  saintly  lives,  unhelped 
by  the  forms  or  faith  of  the  Church ;  —  fighting 
wrong,  not  from  fear  of  hell,  but  because  it  was 
wrong  ;  doing  right,  not  from  hope  of  heaven,  but 
because  it  was  right ;  living  the  real  religion  of  right 
eousness  !  If  religion  means  "to  do  justly  and  to  love 
mercy,"  to  help  others  "  in  their  affliction,  and  to  keep 
oneself  unspotted  from  the  world,"  then  it  has  counted 
many  of  its  best  saints  among  men  who  have  dropped 
old  liturgies  and  beliefs.  The  falling  of  these  leaves 
has  only  shown  how  deeply  the  real  religion  was 
rooted.  The  winter  has  not  harmed,  but  proved,  the 
religious  life. 

It  will  even  lead  to  an  increase  of  that  life, — just 
as  the  annual  winter  is  the  passage  to  a  larger  growth. 
As  at  the  base  of  every  fallen  leaf  lies  a  bud  waiting 
to  grow  into  a  new  branch ;  so  beneath  every  fallen 
doctrine  lay  a  truth  waiting  to  unfold  into  larger  doc 
trines.  This  is  already  seen,  and  everywhere  wise 
preachers  are  proclaiming  a  larger  faith.  Mr.  Savage's 


320       THE    NEW   YEAR    OF    RELIGION 

famous  sermon,  "What  o'clock  is  it  in  Religion?" 
well  shows  how  the  old  ideas  of  the  universe  and  man 
and  God  are  giving  way  to  better,  and  concludes  that 
it  is  the  morning  of  a  new  day.  Changing  the  figure, 
we  would  say  that  it  is  the  beginning  of  a  new  relig 
ious  year,  which  shall  see,  not  merely  the  coming 
of  new  light,  but  growth  of  life.  In  religion,  as 
in  the  January  sky,  the  sun  is  starting  for  a  new 
summer. 

It  has  indeed  long  since  started,  and  made  much 
advance  from  its  solstice.  That  lowest  solstice  in 
religion  was  reached  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago, 
and  since  then  the  whole  tendency  has  changed. 
Toward  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century,  intel 
lectual  men  were  wont  to  glory  in  the  name  "  infidel " 
and  even  "atheist."  In  a  company  of  eighteen  dis 
tinguished  men  at  Baron  d'Holbach's  dinner  in  Paris, 
when  one  said  he  doubted  if  any  thinker  could  seriously 
call  himself  an  atheist,  the  host  replied:  "My  dear 
sir,  you  are  now  sitting  at  table  with  seventeen  such." 
It  was  often  said  an  honest  man  must  be  either  an 
atheist  or  a  fool.  Even  a  deist  was  defined  as  "  a  man 
who  has  not  lived  long  enough  to  become  an  atheist." 
Macaulay  says  "  it  was  as  necessary  to  the  charac 
ter  of  an  accomplished  man  that  he  should  despise 
the  religion  of  his  country  as  that  he  should  know 


THE   NEW   YEAR   OF    RELIGION       321 

his  letters."  Such  was  the  condition  in  much  of 
Christendom.  Then  was  the  December  solstice  of 
religion. 

But  since  then  religion  has  been  rising  and  return 
ing,  like  the  January  sun.  Nor  has  it  been  rising 
merely  to  repeat  a  former  season,  but  for  the  larger 
life  of  a  new  one.  The  signs  of  this  growth  are 
already  seen  in  the  broader  thoughts  on  all  subjects. 
Ideas  of  Nature  have  enlarged ;  and,  instead  of  a  little 
world  made  in  a  week,  we  see  an  infinite  creation  fill 
ing  all  time.  Ideas  of  man  have  changed  ;  and,  instead 
of  his  fatal  fall  and  almost  universal  perdition,  we  see 
his  rise,  proving  his  worth  and  promise.  Ideas  of  God 
have  enlarged ;  and,  instead  of  a  limited  person  with 
human  passions  and  partiality,  we  see  a  far  diviner 
Power  pervading  all  nations  and  Nature.  Ideas  of 
Providence  have  broadened ;  and,  instead  of  occasional 
miracles  to  help  a  few  men,  we  see  the  infinite  miracle 
of  universal  laws  forever  helping  all.  Old  ideas  of 
inspiration  have  widened ;  and,  instead  of  a  few  ancient 
prophets  and  one  sacred  book,  we  see  the  same  inspira 
tion  working  everywhere  through  human  reason  and 
conscience,  making  all  good  literature  and  lives  an 
unending  Revelation.  Old  ideas  of  Christianity  have 
enlarged ;  and  we  see  that  the  goodness  which  was 
divine  in  Jesus  is  just  as  divine  wherever  found,  and 


322       THE   NEW   YEAR   OF    RELIGION 

that  the  incarnation  has  been  shown  in  innumerable 
men,  since  every  one  "  that  dwelleth  in  love  dwelleth 
in  God,  and  God  in  him." 

This  larger  faith  does  indeed  bring  a  new  day  in 
religion,  and  outshines  the  old  doctrines  as  sunrise 
does  the  morning  star.  But  it  comes  more  like  a  new 
year,  to  bring  life  as  well  as  light,  to  melt  old  animos 
ities  in  a  larger  charity,  and  to  warm  souls  to  a  higher 
growth.  We  may  not  yet  feel  its  warmth.  Like  the 
January  sun,  it  still  lies  low  in  the  sky,  not  yet  shed 
ding  heat  in  our  hearts,  but  only  shining  on  our  minds 
with  wintry  rays.  But,  like  that,  it  will  rise  ever 
higher,  until  we  not  only  see  its  splendor,  but  feel  its 
warmth.  It  will  become  not  merely  a  truth  convinc 
ing  the  intellect,  but  a  feeling  kindling  the  soul. 
Winter  will  yield  to  spring ;  and  the  thoughts  that 
only  sparkle  now,  like  snow  in  the  sun,  will  warm 
and  rise  and  flow  in  the  circulation  and  life  of  a  new 
summer. 

But  that  summer  is  still  far  away,  and  will  be  slow 
in  coming.  Doubtless  much  cold  weather  is  yet  await 
ing  us.  Hence  the  practical  question  is  what  to  do 
with  it.  Most  animals  avoid  the  winter,  some  migrat 
ing  to  warmer  climes,  some  seeking  holes  in  which  to 
hibernate.  But  man  faces  it  out,  and  often  makes  it 


THE    NEW    YEAR   OF   RELIGION       323 

the  busiest  and  best  season  of  the  year.  So,  in  relig 
ion,  some  souls,  frightened  by  the  wintry  temperature 
of  thought,  migrate  to  more  tropical  churches ;  while 
some  retire  from  religious  life  altogether,  and,  like  the 
gophers,  settle  into  a  state  of  hibernation  and  spiritual 
torpor,  without  even  any  hope  of  coming  out  of  it. 
But  manlier  souls  say,  "  We  will  face  the  winter  out, 
and  make  the  best  of  it,  doing  what  we  can  to  keep 
ourselves  and  others  warm." 

But  how  shall  this  be  done  ?  Some  would  war 
against  the  cold.  It  seems  such  a  positive  force, 
bursting  vessels,  killing  men,  covering  lakes  with  ice, 
creating  glaciers  that  carve  the  very  mountains  and 
carry  them  over  the  continents.  But  the  physicists 
tell  us  it  is  not  positive  at  all,  —  a  mere  negation,  a 
minus  quantity.  Heat  is  the  positive  thing,  and  cold 
is  only  the  absence  of  it.  Of  course,  this  seems  a 
useless  distinction  ;  for  a  freezing  man  finds  no  com 
fort  in  the  thought  that  he  is  being  killed  by  a  mere 
negation.  Still,  the  distinction  has  some  practical 
value.  For,  cold  being  a  nothing,  we  learn  to  waste 
no  time  warring  against  it,  but  simply  to  seek  heat. 
So  in  religion  we  need  wage  no  war  either  with  neg 
ative  indifference,  or  with  empty  dogmas  and  hollow 
forms.  A  hole  in  the  lawn  is  removed,  not  by  trying 
to  cart  it  away,  but  by  filling  it  up.  The  religious 


324       THE    NEW   YEAR   OF    RELIGION 

cold  is  a  void  to  be  filled,  —  and  all  that  we  need  is  to 
bring  the  warmth. 

But  how  shall  we  get  it  ?  The  true  way  would  seem 
to  be  to  go  nearer  to  the  sun,  and  to  the  truth  which 
it  symbolizes.  But,  practically,  this  method  does  not 
succeed.  We  climb  a  mountain  toward  the  sun  only 
to  grow  colder,  and  shiver  on  its  summit,  while  people 
a  mile  below  are  broiling.  The  aeronaut  soars  still 
higher,  only  to  freeze.  If  our  heat  does  come  from 
the  sun,  we  get  it  reflected  from  the  earth  and  bathing 
us  in  the  lower  air.  So  spiritual  warmth  is  found, 
not  by  philosophers  climbing  the  mountain-heights  of 
thought  or  soaring  upward  in  search  of  truth,  but  by 
the  people  who  keep  close  to  the  interests  of  earthly 
life.  If  it  does  come  from  above,  it  reaches  us  through 
human  hearts ;  and  those  living  in  the  humblest  val 
leys  get  most  of  it.  The  sparkling  peaks  of  specula 
tion  look  beautiful  from  below,  but  are  icy  and  slippery 
when  reached,  —  not  a  pleasant  place  to  live.  Relig 
ious  warmth  comes  not  by  climbing  the  heights  of 
truth,  but  by  keeping  close  to  human  life  and  human 
hearts. 

We  are  near  enough  to  truth  at  any  time,  and  only 
need  to  keep  the  right  attitude  toward  it.  Winter  is 
just  the  season  when  we  are  nearest  the  sun,  they 
say  ;  —  but  we  are  cold  because  our  zone  has  turned 


THE   NEW   YEAR   OF   RELIGION       325 

its  face  away  from  him.  We  are  some  three  millions 
of  miles  further  from  him  in  summer ;  —  yet  have 
grown  warm  by  facing  him  more  directly.  So  in  the 
wintry  period  of  criticism,  we  are  nearer  the  truth  than 
at  any  other  time ;  but  we  miss  its  warmth  because 
we  are  searching  it  with  the  intellect  rather  than  turn 
ing  hearts  and  lives  toward  it  with  devotion.  It  is  not 
the  nearness,  but  the  devoted  attitude,  that  brings 
summer  to  the  soul.  And  if  we  would  take  that  atti 
tude  to-day,  it  would  add  warmth  to  the  religious 
winter,  —  just  as  even  January  becomes  quite  com 
fortable  on  the  southern  slope  of  a  hill. 

But  even  on  that  slope  a  house  is  needed.  So, 
in  the  religious  winter,  people  need  the  shelter  of 
association  and  organization.  Liberal  people  need  it 
more  than  others,  since  they  live  in  higher  altitudes. 
Strong  souls  may  indeed  go  without  such  help  ;  —  and 
Emerson  reminds  us  that  Milton,  the  most  religious 
man  of  his  time,  attended  no  church.  But  most 
people  who  try  such  independence  lose  by  it,  —  like 
the  hermit  who  spends  the  winter  in  the  wilderness. 
Among  those  who  are  living  without  the  help  of  asso 
ciation,  many  seem  to  have  caught  cold  from  the 
exposure  and  to  be  far  gone  in  spiritual  consumption. 
It  is  good  to  have  church  homes.  It  is  good  to  warm 
them  with  something  besides  our  own  natural  heat. 


326       THE   NEW    YEAR   OF    RELIGION 

Just  as  we  warm  our  houses  by  the  wood  that  grew 
in  former  summers,  or  the  coal  from  still  more  torrid 
ages ;  —  so  we  need  to  warm  our  hearts,  not  merely 
by  our  own  thoughts  and  feelings,  but  also  by  those 
from  more  zealous  times,  preserved  in  devotional  liter 
ature.  Of  course  this  artificial  method  of  heating  is 
liable  to  abuses.  Some  churches  mine  from  Scripture 
a  rather  bituminous  fuel,  and  do  not  use  sufficient 
draft  of  thought  to  consume  it  thoroughly,  but  worship 
in  too  sulphurous  an  atmosphere.  Some  prefer  very 
light  fuel,  so  that  their  fire  roars  lustily  for  a  time, 
nearly  burning  them  up,  and  then  goes  out,  perhaps 
leaving  the  weaker  souls  to  take  cold.  Liberal  sects 
are  apt  to  go  to  the  other  extreme.  They  affect  the 
solid  anthracite  of  truth,  shun  sensational  kindlings, 
try  to  strike  fire  from  philosophic  flint  with  the  steel 
of  intellect,  —  hence  seldom  get  too  much  heat,  and 
generally  not  half  enough.  They  have  not  even  the 
furnace  of  a  common  faith,  but,  in  their  freedom  of 
thought,  bring  each  his  own  individual  belief,  —  as 
our  grandmothers  brought  their  foot-stoves. 

But  like  the  latter,  they  find  help  even  in  coming 
together.  For  feeling  and  thought,  like  warmth  and 
light,  are  increased  by  sharing.  Sentiments  and  ideas, 
—  unlike  dollars,  —  are  still  retained  while  given  away ; 
so  that,  when  men  unite,  each  keeps  his  own  and  gains 


THE   NEW   YEAR   OF    RELIGION       327 

the  others',  just  as  when  they  bring  their  lamps  to 
gether.  They  even  arouse  each  other  ;  as  in  Carlyle's 
figure  of  the  coals  of  fire,  which  soon  go  out  when 
separated,  but  burst  into  a  flame  when  put  together. 
Souls,  when  isolated,  grow  dull  and  die ;  so  that  the 
sagacious  sailor  said  to  Lowell,  "Without  society  a 
man  does  not  know  half  the  time  whether  he  is 
alive  or  not."  But  by  union  they  keep  alive  and 
kindle  each  other  to  a  higher  life.  The  proverb  says, 
When  hand  grasps  hand,  one  and  one  are  more  than 
two.  In  the  arithmetic  of  hearts,  2  -\-  2  =  5,  and 
3X5=  20.  The  meeting  multiplies  the  power  of 
its  members,  —  of  the  speaker  also,  if  there  be  one. 
The  preacher  of  the  story  thanked  the  Lord  that  he 
had  a  large  audience,  since  he  did  not  have  talent 
enough  to  satisfy  a  small  one.  By  association  we 
help  each  other,  help  the  cause,  help  ourselves,  —  save 
ourselves.  For  we  can  still  keep  the  old  phrase  and 
say  that,  by  uniting  with  the  church,  we  "save  our 
souls  "  ;  —  save  them  not  from  foolish  flames  and  fears, 
but  from  the  death  of  indifference,  and  to  that  higher 
life  which  comes  only  by  helping  each  other  and  unit 
ing  in  a  common  cause. 

But  with  association  must  of  course  go  work,  to 
keep  a  healthy  warmth.  Heat  is  "a  mode  of  motion," 
and  is  produced  by  motion.  Whatever  our  church 


328       THE   NEW   YEAR   OF    RELIGION 

shelter,  we  must  keep  moving,  and  be  warmed  by  our 
own  activity.  The  doctors  tell  us  not  to  sit  by  the 
fire  too  much,  but  to  use  good  food,  take  abundant 
exercise,  and  carry  our  own  heat  within  us.  Religion 
must  not  breathe  the  close  air  of  a  sect,  sit  around  the 
church  stove  or  depend  on  the  pulpit  for  warmth,  but 
have  abundant  work,  and  do  it.  The  wood-chopper 
cares  little  for  fire,  so  long  as  he  has  good  food  and 
swings  his  axe.  If  we  will  take  proper  spiritual  diet, 
—  not  mere  sentimental  soup  or  theologic  crusts,  but 
the  varied  food  of  truth  which  fills  the  world ;  if  we 
will  take  healthy  exercise  in  the  open  air  of  life,  and 
be  active  in  good  works  ;  —  we  shall  not  feel  the  cold, 
but  shall  gain  an  inner  warmth  that  can  endure  any 
weather. 

Of  course,  we  cannot  get  it  without  sacrifice.  That 
is  the  lesson  of  heat.  No  physical  warmth  without 
consuming  something,  whether  fuel  in  the  furnace  or 
food  in  the  body.  No  spiritual  warmth  without  con 
suming  ourselves,  "  Whosoever  shall  seek  to  save 
his  life  shall  lose  it,  and  whosoever  shall  lose  his  life 
shall  preserve  it."  Spiritual  life  comes  only  by  sacri 
fice.  Remembering  this,  we  can  keep  warm  through 
the  winter  of  the  new  religious  year,  and  find  it  the 
healthiest  season  of  all. 


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